Give me that ball!

Simone has a bone to pick with the older children she supervises in the later half of her shift. Once the bell rings, most of them persist in trying to shoot baskets into the net and then they loiter, taking their sweet time filing into the school.

Simone understands them. She really does. But when her shift is over, she wants to go home. So she's taken to confiscating the basketball of the offending player.

Of course, she gets complaints but lately, she's also getting compliance. When they see Simone approaching, the boys line up to go in the school. They bounce the basketballs but don't start any new games. That's good enough for Simone.

Except that yesterday, one boy pretended that he couldn't understand what Simone was talking about. He actually repeatedly raced away with the ball. And when a teacher grabbed him and dragged him to the principal's office, he went grudgingly and loudly,protesting his innocence.

To say that Simone fumed would be an understatement. To say that the boy was unrepentant would also be an understatement.

Thank-you for sending me this boy to teach me patience.

J’ai oublié de dire au revoir!!!

À 7h30, la fille de 12 ans lança un petit cri depuis la porte d’entrée. « Aie! Je suis en retard! Je me sauve avant de manquer l’autobus! Bye!» La porte claqua avant que Simone ne puisse aller lui souhaiter de passer une bonne journée.
Le petit B, toujours en pyjamas, regarda sa mère de travers.

« Quoi? » Voulu savoir Simone.

« J’ai pas dit au revoir, » dit-il, les yeux larmoyants.

« Si on se dépêche, » proposa Simone, « On peut peut-être enfiler nos manteaux et rattraper ta sœur avant qu’elle n’embarque dans l’autobus? »

Le petit B accepta mais une fois dehors, l’air froid ne lui plût pas et il voulut rentrer aussitôt. Et là, ce fut la crise. « Je n’ai pas dit au revoir! Je n’ai pas dit au revoir! »

Alors Simone de faire semblant d’être la fille de 12 ans qui part à l’école afin que le petit B puisse lui dire au revoir. Ouf! La crise était passée.

Sauf que le petit B annonça, « Il fait trop froid dehors. Je vais mettre mon pantalon de neige aujourd’hui. » Et la météo parle de températures vers les 15 degrés Celsius. On opte pour la crise immédiate et on dit « NON ! » ou bien pour la crise plus tard et on espère qu’il oubliera? D’accord. La crise plus tard…

Heckedy Peg

Heckedy Peg, written by Audrey Wood and illustrated by Don Wood, suddenly became little B's favourite picture book. The story involves a witch who cons seven children named after the days of the week into letting her into their cottage while Mom is out buying the kids the treats they requested from the market. The witch subsequently turns the children into food and carts them away to her hut in the woods. Simone read it at least twice a day. When Simone wasn't reading the book, little B could be found, snug in the couch with the book open on his lap as he recited the lines in the story.

Then came the twist: "Today is Sunday," declared little B. "I want a bowl of egg pudding." He paused and reconsidered his request, given his mother's scornful expression. "Please?"

So Simone made egg pudding with the little guy and he ate a small portion while Simone scarfed back the rest of it. Not a very healthy proposition for Simone but she enjoyed the treat, not precisely making the connection between the book and the request yet.

The following day, the little guy requested a tub of butter. Because, of course, it was Monday. And the child named Monday had requested a tub of butter. Here, things got a smidgeon tense because little B insisted that Simone MAKE the butter and she flat out refused, citing lack of supplies and equipment as the cause. Hubby, fresh from watching a cooking show, saved the day: he took a chunk of butter from the fridge, browned it in a pan, mixed in some more butter with the heat turned off and then poured the concoction in a little container. Voila! A tub of butter.

Simone sighed. Five more days of this, she thought. Then she mentally went through the items the children in the story had requested. Crackers, a tin of salt, a pot of honey, a china pitcher and ... a POCKET KNIFE!

Sigh. Maybe a plastic knife and toy everything else but the crackers would suffice?

Uh, please?

Acceptée!

Simone a reçu la lettre vers la fin de la première semaine d’avril. Elle venait d’être acceptée à l’université de son choix où elle aurait l’occasion d’obtenir son brevet d’enseignement en moins d’un an.

Ce qui était une très bonne nouvelle. Sauf que Simone a peur de tout changement et un retour aux études, à son âge, ce n’est pas du tout facile. Surtout que le mari n’est pas tout à fait d’accord, car les possibilités d’emploi ne sont pas garanties à la sortie des cours.

C’est à voir…

A beautiful day

Spring seemed to have arrived and Simone was in a chipper mood: the sun shone brightly in the sky, the air warmed up enough that Simone was actually able to go outside without a coat and the puppies frolicked in the grass.

"A perfect day for a bath," she mused aloud. The puppies regarded her quizzically. Humming to herself, Simone went inside and poured a couple of inches of water into the laundry room sink. She fetched the pet shampoo, the dog brush and a couple of towels.

"What are you doing?" Asked the twelve year old girl.

"Ah," said Simone, "A helper!"

The 12 year old took a step back but it was too late. She'd been spotted. "Go get the puppies. It's bathtime."

It turned out that bathing peke-a-poo puppies is MUCH easier than bathing German shepherds! In spite of consistent shaking and the occasional failed attempt at escape, the ordeal went quite well. Within ten minutes, the two little guys were clean and fresh smelling - and shaking like leaves. They spent two hours napping on the 12 year old's lap!

And Simone settled down to watch little B frolick in the sun...

Dépêche-toi!

Simone vient de se faire disputer pour la énième fois. Lorsqu’elle surveille les élèves de maternelle dans la cour de récréation et que la cloche sonne, elle aide parfois à les faire rentrer dans la salle de classe.

Parfois aussi, elle est la seule à les surveiller car les autres surveillantes sont parties à leurs autres postes et les enseignantes ne sont pas encore de retour. Dans ces cas-là, Simone reste sur place et surveille son groupe d’élèves de quatre ans, le temps que quelqu’un d’autre prenne la relève.

Oui, mais pendant que Simone s’occupe des petits, il n’y a que les élèves de sixième pour surveiller les enfants de deuxième année. Et les autres surveillantes se voient obligées de jeter un coup d’œil dans les salles de classe de Simone. Ce qui ne doit pas leur plaire énormément.

« Dépêche-toi, » disent-elles à Simone. « Ce n’est pas ta responsabilité de t’occuper des tout-petits. Tu dois aller directement surveiller la prochaine classe dès que la cloche sonne. »

Mouais… Quitte à laisser une vingtaine d’enfants de quatre ans sans surveillance, Simone préfère encore perdre sa job…

Left foot, right foot, right foot, left...

The boots were lined up neatly against the wall.

"Are they in the right order, Madame?" Little J asked Simone.

Simone looked at the boots and realized that if little J slipped them on, they would be on the wrong feet. "No," she said.

Little J beamed, "Thank-you, Madame!" He switched the boots around so that they now were lined up properly, the left boot on the left and the right boot on the right. He then crossed his feet and proceeded to slip the right foot into the left boot and the left foot into the right boot.

...And you just KNOW he's gonna tell people, "But Madame told me to put my boots on this way!"