Maybe that's a little strong.
I've been known to exaggerate. Once. About a hundred years ago.
You know how at this time of year you see cars all over town with "Senior '09" (or whatever the appropriate year might be) written in them with shoe polish or some stuff made specially for writing on car windows, along with a person's name, perhaps the name or initials of the high school, maybe a dog or cat paw print depending upon which school?
I've seen a few cars like that in the parking lot at our school. A few of them might want to reconsider what year they paint on their cars. I'm just sayin'. I guess they can dream if they want to, but the truth is going to be painfully obvious to them in........oh, about seven days.
I don't know if this is happening everywhere, but among the girls at our tiny little school there is an epidemic of writing their "s's" tipped over on their sides. Sort of like half an infinity sign. Only they're not all the way tipped over. They just look a little drunk. And stupid. The letters, not the girls. Most of the time.
Anyway, the cars of those particular girls just look retarded. It looks like they are proclaiming themselves to be "eniors" with some ridiculous nonsensical decoration in front of that non-word. I've seen people stop and look at their cars, tilt their heads over to see if they can make sense of it, and then just shake their heads and walk away.
When I stopped at the grocery store Monday afternoon, however, I saw a car similarly painted, and it just took the cake.
I don't know when I'll learn to have a camera on hand at all times, like Pioneer Woman, because you just never know when a blog topic might break out. I would love to be able to document this story, because it may sound to some of you like it's too ridiculous NOT to be made up. I promise, I could not make this stuff up.
There was a car painted with the words "graduation" and "09" and "congratulations" and the little princess's name.........and the words "pre-school."
Come on, people.
I really don't remember what the kid's name was, but I am certain that little Kaitlyn/Katelin/Caitlin/Kaitlin/Caitlyn/Catelyn/Catelin/Katelen/Kaitlen/Caitlen/Catelen/Kaytlin/Caytlin does not give a rip about her own graduation from pre-school. And you know it's a girl, because no self-respecting guy paints words on his car windows. At least not his graduation year. There is one guy whom I meet some mornings with the word "FUBAR" painted on his vehicle window. And it is, so you really can't blame him for that. And there was the car I saw at the park today that had the word "Chevy" painted on the back window. I'm guessing he lost the emblem about the same time he acquired one of the many dents and lost a fender in front and the bumper on back and he wants to make sure everyone knows what particular brand his POS car is.
Last spring I caught two of our seniors in the act of writing something on MY car windows with white paint. I have no idea what they were planning to write, since I graduated for the last time five years ago, but they went back inside with their tails tucked between their legs and their ears singed around the edges.
Back to the pre-school graduate. Does she even have a concept of what graduating from pre-school means?
All she cares about is getting out of the damn carseat.
She wants strawberry soda so she can have a red mustache.
She wants Dora the Explorer underwear. (I may be slightly behind on whatever small female children are wearing in underwear these days. Whatever.)
She wants that little brat in her PRE-SCHOOL class to stop pulling her pigtails.
She wants macaroni and cheese for dinner and chocolate pudding for dessert.
I'm guessing the parents are sending out invitations to this graduation. What on earth does one get a four-year-old for graduation? She can only play with so many dolls. She probably already has a laptop that she uses to keep up with her classmates on MySpace. Clearly she already has a car of her own, because NO ONE would proclaim to be the proud parent of a pre-school graduate.
I wonder if she and some of her four-year-old playmates will head on out to Florida following their graduation ceremony. Maybe a cruise to the Bahamas?
I'm trying to picture the post-graduation party. Juice and cookies and gummy bears and a lot of crying. But not the tearful, "I'm gonna miss you I can't believe it's over you've always been my best friend even when I was sleeping with your boyfriend" kind of crying. I'm talking the "I'm coming down from a sugar high and I'm not getting my way and watch me kick my feet and scream and make my face turn beet red and have mucus running down my face" kind of crying.
Poor little pre-schoolers. They have to be prepared to move on to the real world of kindergarten. It's tough out there. Competition for the blue crayon will be fierce. Kindergarten teachers don't always let the right kid lead the line to the cafeteria. Walking down the hall with your finger over your lips is stressful. And they're going to be GRADED. On things like tying their shoes and using scissors. Shudder.
Come on, people. It's pre-school.