this morning, oliver decided to take the baby orangutan back into his fold. he came and found me fixing my broken hairs in the bathroom and asked for a bowl. this is his thing. asking me for one of my bowls. he likes to gather his usual leaves and acorns and rocks and sticks and apples and flowers and put them into one of my bowls with a little water and wait days for them to ferment into apple juice.
so i give him my big, round rubber maid #8 and he goes off in search of a monkey mother. i eventually run into him again and the old number 8 is swaddling the baby chimpanzee, the large gorilla, and the tiny, vintage, black sasquatch from his three year old birthday cake. they were cuddled up in a happy primate family.
*sasquatch photo not available*
oliver spent another morning grabbing on to my hands in an attempt to not have to go say good morning to mrs bailey and enter the classroom. i wiggled my hand free and he clasped himself to my leg. this is all done noiselessly. no whimpering or crying or pleading. just quiet desperation. which makes me sad. i hate having to kind of push him and run. and everyone always cuts in line. DO YOU SEE ME STANDING HERE? yesterday, i went to get violet out of child care at the park cities Y and it's just a tiny vestibule in there and it was packed already and i held the door open hoping people would exit soon so i could go in and this woman just sails on past me with her daughter and starts chatting away with someone already in there. just breezes on in like i'm being paid to stand there holding the door open for her. REALLY!?
oliver still asks if mrs scott will be in school today. we're all sad about mrs scott. i should send her an email, but relaying my knowledge of the gossip surrounding her departure could be touchy. i hate for her to think no one knows, assuming it's all true, you know. a kicking while she's down. assuming it's all true, you know.