Yesterday, when I asked Siena how her day was, she said, “I had a very good day.” Stretching out her arms wide, she continued, “It was a whole good day.”
I was thrilled to hear that, because the drop-off that morning had been really dreadful with Siena crying, clinging to my leg, and not wanting me to leave. (So far, “I want you to stay with me daddy” has been one of the hardest things to say no to.)
I asked Siena why she had such a good day, and her response was, “Because no one shot at me or said any bad things to me.”
Is it too much to ask that the definition of a good day in school can be defined not by whether someone (pretend) shoots at your daughter and instead by whether she learned something new and exciting or had a special activity?
This anecdote is just adding to my vast portfolio of reasons why we just might not need boys anymore. Someday I’ll document it all. Or perhaps just find a way to get the kids into an all-girls school. Which of course must be a terrible idea once they hit 13.