At 1:15 yesterday, my six year old performed as Tigger in Winnie the Pooh. He did a great job. Said his lines clearly and with a smile. Looked at the audience with confidence. Knew all the words to the songs. He only beat his twin Tigger with his tail in-between songs.
I left after big cheers and hugs and photos at 2:00, but he apparently had a hard time releasing his Tigger-self.
By 3:00, word had made it through the fourth and fifth grades to his two brothers – Tigger had detention.
That’s one of the many things I like about a small school. One misstep and mom hears about it before carpool.
“So and so in the other class saw the principal talking to…” announced the fourth grader with a grin.
Then, “guess what so and so said happened today in kindergarten…” said the fifth grader, also quite gleeful.
In one hour, kids across three grades of the Lower School had heard. And by the time the errant kindergartner showed up, I was ready. His eyes grew to twice their normal size. “How does mom know everything?!”
“What in the world did you do that the art teacher had to call the principal?”
“I was silly.”
“Yep.” Poor Tigger.
“And what did you do when the principal came?”
“I was really, really polite.”
“ …which you should be all the time.”
“Ok,” he sighed, snagged by mom’s spies once again.