Dressing For Preschool

Every Tuesday and Thursday Master Hugo has preschool.  Hugo loves school, until it's time to get dressed.  He cries, whines, hides, runs and sobs that he needs help, drawing out our normally easy going morning routine.  I'm so surprised how the grown-up event of attending school changes the dynamic of our house sooooo much.  Everyone told me so.  I've listened to my sister Millie, and all my girlfriends with older children, complain about how much they dislike the school year morning rush.

Let me tell you, it can be a mad dash scramble to:

feed the girls, 

change their diapers, 

clothe them, 

brush teeth (mine + Hugo's),

settle the girls downstairs on tummies with lots of toys,

back upstairs to make beds,

shower, 

clothe myself, 

then Hugo, 

make breakfast, 

rearrange girls so they aren't fussy, 

eat breakfast, 

gather up errand items, 

possibly start a load of laundry, 

check diapers one more time, 

check the diaper bag for needed replenishment, 

belt the girls into their car seats,

beg Hugo to put on his flip flops,

attach toys to overhead bars of car seats, 

transfer girls in their seats and diaper bag outside the door, 

oh goodness! - the poor dog needs time to pee outside 

and Evie the Cat just rushed my legs 

(she got locked out over night again, it's a good thing she's fixed!) 

fill up the cat and dog bowls with food and water, 

get Rodrigo back inside, 

lock the door, 

carry both girls + giant diaper bag out to the waiting van, 

did I remember to pop open the van doors, where are my keys?, 

holler at Hugo to please not jump in the mud puddles with his flip flops on, 

drop in baby A, 

drop in baby B, 

toss in diaper bag,

buckle Hugo, 

did I remember my phone?, check!, 

start the car and...  breathe Alissa.  

*
Hugo has been bobbing about the house on one leg this past week.  

Me:  What are you doing?

Hugo:  I'm a mingo.

Me:  A what?  

Hugo:  A mingo!
Hop, hop, hop he went with his arms out stretched and then he bent towards the floor in a sort of awkward yoga pose, then he hopped about some more.

Me:  Ohhhhh, do you mean a fla-mingo?  

Hugo:  Yes, a mingo! 

**

Hugo:  Let's go somewhere.

Me:  Like where?

Hugo:  The beach!

Me:  We can't go to the beach without Papa.  We need him to help us.

Hugo:  Noooo.  We have the Lady!

Me:  (Very confused... ) What lady?

Hugo:  (Like duh, Ma type voice) In the van (hands are waving on either side of his body for emphasis).  You know, she says Left, Right... you know.

It took me a moment I must admit.  I sure do love my navigation lady!

***

After church this past Sunday, one of the Primary teachers told me that Hugo was very cute during Sharing Time.  She said he raised his hand and told everyone that his momma cried when Jesus died and that he (Hugo) hugged his momma so she'd feel better.

I wondered if he'd said that Bella died, but that the adults assumed he meant Jesus.  He still talks about Bella dying.  A lot.  The event of our Miss Belle passing away and his witnessing me uncontrollably crying on my knees before her, has truly imprinted itself upon his young brain.  He doesn't want any of us to get old and die like Bella did.  He still sometimes includes her in his verbal line up of our family.

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When I picked Hugo up from preschool today, it was raining.  Both girls were tucked in their seats, Hugo was holding on "helping" me to carry them as we ran to the van.  He was upset about the rain.  He said, "Hurry Mom!  I don't want to wreck my hair!"