Ben had spring pictures at preschool today. The preschool had a photographer come in with live bunnies. They do this every year but, even in Georgia, it's rarely warm enough at the beginning of March to send your child to school in their Easter finest for a spring picture. Especially since they have to wear their outfit the rest of the school day, including out to the playground. So we always end up with an odd picture of him in an artificial grassy meadow, dressed in cords and a button down, holding a frightened looking rabbit.
But this year, the pictures just happened to correspond with a early warm front. The weather man forcasted a balmy 65 degrees. So last night I decided to let him wear khaki shorts and a baby blue polo to school today, our first delve of the year into his spring wardrobe. It was also raining so I knew that even though it was still a bit chilly for the shorts he wouldn't be going outside for recess. Suddenly, I was actually excited about pictures. I even ironed everything the night before. Shocking, I know.
Then, this morning I helped him get dressed and carefully styled his hair, gelling it into a little boy side part. He looked like such a handsome little man. He was quite proud of himself and new dress sandals which were really left over from last summer. Hurray for toddler sized memories.
Then I went to get dressed myself. When I came back into the living room with lotion for his dry winter legs, I discovered that, in just the short time I was gone, he had covered his arms and legs with a spiderweb of orange marker.
I didn't handle it well.
I started yelling almost immediately. "Ben what did you do? WHY DID YOU COLOR ALL OVER YOURSELF???" To which he responded fearfully,
"Miss Lisa likes me when I'm orange"
I am not sure exactly what he meant by this statement; if it was that he actually colored on himself to impress her or just that She would not have reacted as harshly. Either way, it way it falls under a theme that has been running strong around here lately: Ben worships his preschool teacher, Ms Lisa.
I let out something between a sigh and a growl, scooped him up, stripped him down, threw him in the tub and had him scrubbed down, and redressed in five minutes flat. The orange would not come off completely though, so he looked like he had orange veins running through him. Hoping it wouldn't show in the pictures, I brought him to school.
When we saw Ms. Lisa I shared with her with the story of our morning including Ben's explanation. I even managed to keep my tone from sounding the least bit accusatory. She looked at him sternly and said, "Ben!"
"You know it's green I like and not orange."
Ben broke into a fit of giggles. I made a mental note to rid our home of all green markers.