Unexpected Expenses

Sorry for the rambling rant last night...though I'm glad the articles on introverts were useful.  I found them particularly funny because I always make comments like, "Cat had to drag me by the ear to the Christmas party."  All three used a variation on that theme.

It's not that I don't like being around coworkers, many of whom I consider friends, a couple of whom I consider good friends, and I feel generally positive towards the rest with one exception.  It's just that it's overwhelming and exhausting.  At a party, you'll usually find me hanging in a corner chatting with a couple of people or watching from the sidelines.  I generally don't initiate conversations but if someone comes up and starts one, I'm generally open for it.

Truthfully, I'm not sure why yesterday slid me so far into overload mode that I essentially hid away from people all night, but after a long night's sleep, I feel much better today.

Now, about that unexpected expense.

I'm not, to put it mildly, the most organized person on the planet, but I generally don't lose my electronics.  In fact, I've had 3 iPods, 2 Shuffles, an iPhone, 2 point and shoot digital cameras, a Sony Reader, and a fairly expensive pair of earbuds, and not lost any of them.  And I'd like to point out that a 2nd generation shuffle is about a quarter of the size of a credit card.

And yet, my trusty 5th generation iPod has gone missing.

I've looked all over the house, through backpacks, purses, camera bags, cars...everywhere.  And I'm reluctantly forced to decide that it must have fallen out of my purse at one point.

So, I'm now the reluctant owner of an already-full (or, it will be when it finally finishes syncing) 160 gb iPod classic.  In honor of its lost sibling, I gave it the same name -- Lo'La (all my iPods are named after ships on Farscape -- nerdy, yes, but more 'cause I like the way the names Talyn and Moya sound, and Lo'La was all that was left).

I Have No Idea Where This Is Going

Warning:  This is probably going to be more a brain dump than an actual blog post.

1.  Most of today at school was really good, with a few exceptions.  First, Aide J apparently had a "nervous breakdown" at her other job last night and said she wanted criticism and to be told when she needs help.  Second, Aide J started the day well but by afternoon had (again) forgotten everything I told her yesterday.  This is frustrating to me.  And, third, Superhero -- after one of the most spectacular days I've seen him have yet -- randomly hit Aide Mrs. B.  

2.  There were two big exceptions.

2a.  First, PH shouldn't have been at school -- at least not this morning.  He coughed a lot, dozed off, perked up, and then the cycle would just start all over again.  This is not the big problem.  The problem is that when we asked the office to call and his mom protested that she didn't want to pick him up, the office's response was to tell us to let him sleep on our beanbag.  I mean, what the frell?  If this were a kid in general education, that wouldn't have been an acceptable alternative, but because PH has special needs, he's allowed to just sleep it off at school -- thus infecting all of us?

2b.  There is a 6th grade girl who's fully included that we'll call Student E.  She takes the bus with my kiddos, but today she said she was being picked up.  We said, "okay," and went about our life.  Then our office clerk B comes out and says E was supposed to ride the bus.  She was very snippy and even said that next time we should check with her.  Again, what the frell?  Not my student.  Not my business.  Not my job.  Plus, she's never been wrong before.

2c.  I generally like Clerk B a lot.  Today, however, she was On My List.

3.  Someone parked in my spot this morning at school and I had to park half a block away.

4.  However, Superhero read nearly a whole paragraph (with picture support) on his own, and M is reading non-picture-supported phrases on her own AND showing comprehension.  Woo-hoo.

5.  I am very grumpy today, for reasons that make no sense to me, given the relatively calm day.  Thus, given my turtle tendency, all I really want to do is hide in my bedroom tonight.

5a.  And yet, it is suddenly Absolutely Vital that my grandpa order prints of the 100 pictures he's taken in the 2 years he's had his digital camera.  I have shown him three times how to do this with iPhoto, and have no patience for the process -- or, to be totally honest, my grandpa...my electrical engineer grandpa...standing behind me staring over my shoulder and either pretending he knows what I'm doing or, worse, marveling at the fact that I can FIND and CLICK the "Order Prints" button.

5b.  I am now in deep familial trouble by saying that I just couldn't tonight, because apparently I am never allowed to need to be by myself.  It's enough to make me want to print copies of this or this or this for my entire family.

5c.  When I was a child, because of the screwed up psychology of my family where I got in trouble for speaking up to my grandma and saying "no" to crossing a street against a red light, I would have never dared to say, "I need to be alone now."  The few times I tried, I got in trouble for being anti-social.  Old habits die hard...I am sitting here already riddled with guilt because I chose not to go.

5d.  The fact that I was able to stand up for myself and say, "I just can't tonight" really should be a sign to people of how much I need my time alone.  But despite some of the craziest crazies in the family having since passed on...like I said...old habits die hard.

6.  Someday, I probably should go into therapy.

The funny thing is, my brain can go on even wilder tangents than that, but it's abruptly said, "that's enough" right now, so I'm going to watch The Simpsons and wait for 11:00.  Thank goodness for brainless fun TV.

New Girl

So, the new girl came today. She's very nice. Very, very verbal...in fact, I suspect her nickname will be something along the lines of Motormouth. She just has to be a part of every conversation. She's sweet, and Angel was very relieved to have another girl to play with and interact with.

Her mom...hm...I can see where her mom has an inflated idea of what she can do -- because it's very deceptive, having a girl who has such good conversational and social skills.

She said several times she had a good first day, though she was a bit puzzled by Elastigirl -- "You mean she can't talk?" she asked two or three times, and she looked askance at Superhero (again with the allergies and rash, so again with the squealing and obnoxious behavior) several times, but she seemed happy.

But of course my days can never be that easy.

I walked Elastigirl up to class today, and we were chatting and playing together.

(Granted, "chatting" consists of me giving her deep pressure on an arm, while saying cheerfully, "I'm squeezing your arm!" and her repeating "squeeze" or saying "more," but, still...who'd've thunk I'd be chatting with Elastigirl?)

That, of course, was my first mistake.

Then, at PE, Elastigirl wouldn't walk with Aide J...because Aide J just kept saying, "C'mon, Elastigirl."

She wandered up to me, so I took her hand and swung it vigorously back and forth, which she loved, so I held on and gave her arm a tug.

(This is not at all like it sounds, but that's the only way I can describe it -- Elastigirl loves the sensation of people pulling on her arms, and seeks out spinning activities where she can hold and and then let go. So, she thought it was fun...I wasn't, like, torturing her or anything.)

She giggled like mad and ran after me. So we kept going. Every once in a while, I'd say,
"Swing?" and she'd either say "swing" or "more" or sign "please," and we'd do it again. We made a whole lap that way and kept going. As soon as she saw Aide J following us, she dropped to the ground.

So, I just walked on a bit and ignored her. She got up and followed after me. We'd swing once or twice and she'd drop again, but she always followed me.

Thus, I dug my own grave.

Then, after recess, Elastigirl suddenly paled and started crying. PH was out today because he threw up on the bus, so of course we were worried that she was about to puke all over everything, but she calmed down. Then, later, she started wailing again, and as we watched to see if she was going to throw up, she urinated (she wears pull-ups).

So, of cousre, we suspect a urinary tract infection -- which, of course, is one thing I don't know how to say in Spanish.

Anyhow, to add to all the mess, her parents never reapplied for the lunch program (I know I'm not supposed to know, but when a child has intense needs, etc. etc. etc.), so her lunch routine -- which she's followed from kindergarten to fifth grade is messed up, thus making her grumpy.

She was a wreck after recess, so as we got ready to leave, I asked Aide Mrs. B. to hang out in case Aide J needed help getting Elastigirl to the bus.

And, thus, I shoveled the dirt on my own grave. She asked me if something was "wrong" and proceeded to start to cry.

So, to sum up: if Aide T. offers to help, Aide J does the opposite. If I offer to help, Aide J says "no thank you" and ignores my suggestions. If Aide S offers to help, Aide J says "no thank you" and ignores everybody's suggestions. If Elastigirl so much as looks at any one of us, we get the pinched jealous face. If we don't offer help, she moans about how she doesn't think she can handle the scratching.

When I suggest -- for the fiftieth time -- moving away and ignoring the inappropriate behavior, I get a knowing nod. And then I see her crouched down beside Elastigirl, who has just tried to scratch a kindergartner, telling her how that was bad and would hurt and yadda yadda yadda, and then looks shocked when Elastigirl takes a swipe at her.

So, to put all this in words that I know at least Amie will understand, I have my dad's mom working in my classroom. Yee-haw.

Statistics

So, I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it before, but in all 5 years I've been teaching, my class has defied statistics by having more boys than girls.  In some years, the ratio is fairly close.

Last year was a record, with 2 boys and 8 girls (25%).

This year has just gotten closer, with the addition of girl #6, making it 3 boys and 6 girls (33% boys).

I met the new New Girl (Student T for now until I -- or, more likely, Cat -- come up with a nickname for her) after school today.  She seems nice, but in a year where we've been teetering on the edge of the abyss, the first thing I did was complete the aide request form I was going to do with my program specialist this week (she forgot).

Then, I stuck my head in the principal's office and told her that if she promised to sign it, I promised not to run for the hills screaming.

Yet.

Also, it turned out that Bulldozer was not sick, but had, in fact, two dentist appointments, and he's expected to be out the rest of the week.

Which, in the Bizarro World that is my life, means he'll be there with bells on tomorrow.

Meanwhile, Elastigirl hugged Cat before leaving today and somehow that means Aide J thinks I'm the devil.

Yay me.

One of these days I'm going to try reverse psychology on her.  I'm going to tell her to get right up into Elastigirl's face and tell her how she absolutely should not be doing X, Y, or Z.  Maybe then she'd ignore her.

Or, more likely, would choose that one instance to listen to me.

Meanwhile, we discovered part of the secret of Superhero's recent behavior issues.  He's been breaking out in a rash every time he gets near the school's lawn.  So, now that we've figured it out, we just have to figure out what to do about it.  Today after lunch I had him wipe his face and arms -- all of his exposed body, really -- with a couple of wipes to get the pollen/dust/whatever it is off, and though he had a hard time at first, he calmed down and did a fairly good job.

Which, of course, means that two days from now, it will be a new puzzle and a new issue.

Ah well.

Traveling

The brother of a good teacher friend is in the process of traveling home from active duty in Iraq.  Please send good thoughts his way for his safe return.

More later.

Bizarro World

Today, Bulldozer had a meltdown.

Okay, he had several, which is unusual for a Thursday anymore.

What is really, really weird, though, is what triggered the first one.

He was doing his journal, after doing speech -- without a single attempt at hitting, yay -- and had written that today was Thursday.

Yay Bulldozer.

Then he had to write that it was November.

Not October or December.

November.

Instant level 8 meltdown, complete with wounded-mo0se-like wailing and culminated in actual screaming -- which he borrowed from PH, not-yay.

Now, if he had some sort of deep moral objection to November, you'd have thought that it would have manifested itself in the several other days' worth of journals that all also happened in November.

On a totally unrelated note, NASA has nifty sounds recorded by the Cassini-Hugyens spacecraft near Saturn.  Some of them sound like they could have been lifted right from a 50s sci-fi show.  What do you think?  Coincidence or prescience?

Happy Birthday Amie!

Hope you had a great one. :-)

Groundhog Day

Warning. I am going to whine. I am going to be...petty and probably not well-represented here. It's just that kinda day.

So, as I said recently, any sci-fi show that can even remotely justify doing a "groundhog day" episode does one sooner or later; the most recent was Blood Ties. As with anything that has become a cliche, the execution can be really good or really bad...and this one was quite good.

My life, on the other hand, has rapidly begun to resemble its own groundhog day episode, except that the student having issues changes.

Today, it was PH, who got on the bus screaming and didn't stop until about 9:15. I have no idea what caused it, because the only explanation he could give me was not true -- he said someone on the bus bothered him, but the bus driver said he'd gotten on the bus upset.

In return, both M and Superhero were angels (M did lose it at the end of the day, but after listening to that, I was about to lose it). Superhero even exceeded what I'd intended for him to do on his science quiz. Yay.

(Of course, I can't count; I made him a water molecule to complete for the quiz and gave him one H and two Os.)

I had a hard time shaking the week off this past weekend; it's weeks like this that make me want a job I can go to, do my job, and leave when the day is over.

Meanwhile, Elastigirl was very grumpy after lunch today. I reminded Aide J (again) to move away from her, and got a wide-eyed, "Oh, okay," for my efforts. It's like she wants to get the bejeezus beaten out of her, which is a concept I'm not willing to entertain yet.

Then, when Speech Person DFT came in to talk about Elastigirl, she started to speak to Aide J (not me). Elastigirl was in full meltdown mode at this point because, as usual, I was speaking to brick walls today. (She even used her VOCA -- speech device -- to request attention, and I got dirty looks for reinforcing that, 'cause, apparently, VOCAs aren't better than scratching...but what do I know?)

Anyhow, I told DFT that she shouldn't speak to Aide J at the moment because Elastigirl would not be able to handle it. What does she do? Speaks to Aide J for a really long time. I try redirecting her twice and give up, secretly -- and, yes, I know this is petty and ill-becoming -- hoping Elastigirl would snap and hit her for a change, if only so I could say, "I told you so."

However, I did see a nifty bumper sticker on the way home that said, "Give Bush and inch and he'll think he's a ruler." Heh.

If I get over myself, I may post later on the writer's strike.

The Trouble With Martians

Back before the Internet was the Internet, before the AOL floppy disks that promised 10 free hours!, before the general public even knew what email was, there was CompuServe, and there were bulletin boards.

Now, I realize that for those of you who didn't grow up related to Early Adopter Computer Nerds, that means very little, so I'll take a wild guess and say I'm probably thinking of the mid to late eighties -- say around 87 or 88.  1990 at the latest.

Anyhow, around this time, my dad began to correspond with David Gerrold, who is famous among fandom circles for writing the Star Trek episode "The Trouble With Tribbles" in his late teens or early 20s.

Of course, in true nerd fashion, they never discussed tribbles or Trek, but rather Lotus Notes or somesuch.

I've always felt just a tiny kinship with him after that, just by virtue of the fact that he was a kinda, sorta, maybe virtual acquaintance -- dare I say friend? -- of my dad's.

So, I was quietly rooting for Martian Child -- which is based on his life, though they changed a few key details (he was never married, for one, and wrote the eponymous book about being the single gay parent of a troubled, adopted kid -- which I didn't know until I heard about the movie).  It doesn't look like it did too well.

In his review, David Gerrold seems to have liked it.  So at least there's that.

And, no, I didn't see it.  Movies give me headaches -- I believe that I can see the difference in frame rate (film is essentially 25 frames per second, where TV is 30) and my eyes strain themselves, trying to ignore the flicker -- but I'll probably rent it eventually.

Finally!

If you're a sci-fi fan, you may have noticed that quite often a character in a sci-fi show will say something dramatically optimistic.

For instance, when faced with a ginormous fleet of attacking nasties, you might say, "If they want Armageddon, then by God let's give it to them!"

Or even just a simple, "Whatever comes, we'll be ready for it."

And the observant sci-fi fan says, "Ooooh, Will, you just doomed everybody."

(Pardon me for mixing my fandoms, but I'm trying to make a point.)

A while back on her blog, Jane Espenson (of Buffy and Gilmore Girls fame) talked about reworking old jokes by acknowledging that they were old.

Tonight, a sci-fi show did that with the old "We can handle it" thing.

I give you:

Coreen:  I can handle anything that they throw at us!

Vicki:  Oooh, I'm sure we'll read that in the Book of Famous Last Words.

Heh.  It's cheesy and brainless, but for some reason, I like cheesy and brainless right now.  Plus, Henry's way cuter than Angel was...but not cuter than Spike, who had the benefit of the accent.

This Takes the Cake

I have complained before about certain days in history being boring, but I think November 9 has just claimed the prize.

(For the record, I chose the Berlin Wall.)

At Least I'm Not the Only One

I have no particular affection one way or the other for Robert Goulet.  I'm sorry for his family, naturally, but it's kind of like looking at a local obituary page -- I have no attachment to him specifically.

Except for one thing.

Ever since I read the news that he'd died, I've had the song "Hello Twelve, Hello Thirteen" from A Chorus Line stuck in my head, because of this verbal aside during one of the verses:

"Robert Goulet!  Robert Goulet!  My God, it's Robert Goulet!"

("Too young to take over / Too old to ignore / Gee, I'm almost ready / But what for?")

Later in the song, it's:

"Steve McQueen's real sexy.  Bob Goulet out, Steeve McQueenie in."

("Why do I pay for all those lessons? / Dance for grandma!  Dance for grandma!")

Fortunately, at least two people in this thread had the same reaction.

I may be weird, but at least I have company.

Deja Vu All Over Again

Ironically enough, this has nothing to do with the latest sci-fi show's obligatory Groundhog day episode (which, yes, I did watch...it was rather good at that).

In my first two years of teaching, I had an aide we shall call ME. ME was...well, to put it nicely, she was not the brightest candle in the inn. But she was well-meaning and generally nice, and a very good match with the student with whom she was paired.

Around spring break of my first year of teaching, I received two new students: a fourth grader named Girl C and a fifth grader named Boy T. Girl C, despite her emotional issues, was a very nice girl and I enjoyed her a lot. Boy T...well, Boy T just didn't understand why the rest of the world didn't understand that he was the boss.

It was not all Boy T's fault. Though he had, officially, borderline intelligence scores, he also had severe ADHD as well as seizures. He took medication for both, but the medications interacted such that neither was ever completely controlled.

Boy T wasn't a bad kid, mind you -- he was just bossy, impulsive, and whiny. God, could that kid whine.

ME hated him.

They butted heads constantly. It was always, "Well...I'll just see what Miss Spoowriter says about that!" Seriously.

Enter PH (Boy J). In many ways, PH reminds me of T. He's got the same sense of entitlement -- but where they're both entirely externally motivated, there was a big difference.

T thought that if he did good things or if you praised him you liked him; if he did bad things and if you scolded him, you were trying to "break [his] heart."

PH does good things so that good things will happen to him. He couldn't care less what people think of him, as near as I can tell. When bad things happen to him, they simply happen -- they have little or no correlation with his own actions -- again, as near as I can tell.

And, of course, there's the voice. There's just something about that wheedling, whiny voice they both have that just drives me up the frelling wall.

But, I am aware of the fact that I, sadly, just don't like PH that much, and am constantly on my guard to make sure that I am treating him fairly and not showing how I feel about him.

You may have guessed that, like with ME, this is not the case with one of my aides.

Now that things have settled into a sort of routine, with Aide T able to take some of the weight off my shoulders (I have, in fact, probably been relying on her too much, but it's been so nice to have Bulldozer and/or Superhero be someone else's problem for a while that I've enjoyed the chance to breathe), I am noticing some things that I was simply too swamped -- tsunamid, really -- to see.

Aide J does not like PH.

(Again, not that I blame her, but it's obvious.)

He was very, very bad yesterday and was one ticket short of principal's recess tomorrow. Today was his last chance to earn it (technically, I suppose tomorrow is, as I give tickets for homework too, but the day PH returns homework is the day Vulcans land and make first contact).

So, today, Aide J gets all up and down his case about everything. It was like she wanted to make sure he didn't get principal's recess. At one point, she was actively arguing with me over the fact that he should lose a card because he didn't use the prefix "Miss" for a teacher, because they'd Talked About It Yesterday.

Yesterday is a long time ago, I pointed out. That also assumes he (1) knows what "disrespectful" is, (2) was dropping the prefix specifically to be disrespectful, (3) remembered being told not to do so yesterday, and (4) decided that the best was to be disrespectful was to say "Aide B" instead of "Aide Mrs. B" or "Teacher C" instead of "Teacher Mrs. C."

'Cause, you know, a kid who thinks it's funny to yell "poopy head!" for an hour straight will be so amused by calling Mrs. Smith "Smith!"

Ironically, Patrick had a summer school teacher once who got all up in arms over the same thing -- except this was a severely delayed 7-year-old with a horrible stutter who had a vocabulary of maybe 20 words. The fact that he knew her name was "Butler" was a minor miracle in and of itself.

The moral of this story: pick your frelling battles, people. The kid made a ginormous mess yesterday and spent half an hour yelling obscentities (F you, s**t) and cackling in glee when M repeated them. Dropping the Mrs?

Yeah....

A New Arrival

After a drama-filled pregnancy, Baby L has made her arrival into the world at 5 pounds, 11 ounces and 17 inches in length.  Congrats to Teacher M, and here's to a happy baby who won't put her mommy through any more drama...until she's at least fifteen.

And the Sub Was...

The good news is, Aide K is being reassigned to 2nd-Grade-J (the one who...well, let's just say, "the bathroom thing").

The bad news is, Aide S has strep throat.  Her sub today was Flake Aide D.

Then, at recess, Elastigirl's stomach flu caught up with Aide J, and she fled to the bathroom, where she promptly vomited and went home.

The other bad news is, Program Specialist PM tried really hard today -- as in, came to my classroom and disrupted my routine -- to get Aide Mrs. B to move to one of two other students.

Of course, when Elastigirl had yet another incidence of diarrhea, he fled.  Quickly.

Meanwhile, I'm more or less where I was yesterday -- nauseous all the time...to the point where I wish I'd just get sick and get it over with.

However, Bulldozer's dad brought him today to talk about his bad day yesterday, and I was able to tell him that Bulldozer is much better when he brings him (not that that was true today, but I think the week was more or less a loss).

It Had to Happen Sometime

There's a reason I jokingly refer to illnesses in my classroom as "plagues."  We do our best, but we're talking about kids that don't use tissues appropriately, don't use them at all and require assistance to do so, don't cover their mouths when they cough, etc.  So, when one gets sick, they all -- as well as us adults -- invariably end up sick too.

In fact, in my first year, the only thing that stopped a nasty cold from making its third or fourth round through our ranks was spring break.

So, given that at the moment, we have a stomach flu, possibly strep throat, a sinus infection, and an upper respiratory infection infecting various people, and given the amount of stress this year has caused, I knew it was only a matter of time.

What amuses me -- prone as I am to coughs and bronchitis (thanks, I believe, to growing up with a chain smoker who smoked in the house) -- is that, of everything, I ended up with Elastigirl's stomach flu.

I'm going to bed early just so I won't know I feel nauseous.

(However, kudos to Spirit and Opportunity, for having their mission extended again.  Their ninety day mission began in January of 2004 -- something like 1300 days ago -- and is now approved to continue until 2009, if the Rovers That Could last that long.  Nifty.)

It's a (You Know) After All

I was sitting at a table in the Red Robin at the mall tonight when a woman across the way caught my eye. She looked awfully familiar, but I couldn't place her.

Thankfully, she didn't have that problem, and it turns out that she was a fairly good friend in high school, who now teaches a 1-3 special day class in the area. Cool.

The Next Tip

Okay, so the prior tip seems to be somewhat effective; most people have figured out portions of the "don't respond to attention seeking behavior with attention." This, of course, varies by adult and by child. People get it with PEM, some people get it with Superhero, and a couple people get it with Elastigirl.

I have now decided to move on. Poor Boss felt the Wrath of Aide J last Friday because Aide J was grumpy and I was distracted with -- who else? -- Bulldozer. So, the tip of the (more or less) month is:

Part 1:

Specific directions are always better than general directions.

(I am guilty of this too!)

A child that may not understand "clean up please" will probably understand "please pick up the papers on the floor."

Part 2:

If a child doesn't respond, break the task down into steps; make each step a separate request.

Many children have trouble with multi-step directions. While we want to teach this skill, it's important to remember that what looks like defiance may be lack of understanding.

Meanwhile, Bulldozer did not want to be at school today, and Elastigirl had three incidents of diarrhea in a 15-minute time period, but we couldn't get ahold of anyone to come get her.

At least life isn't boring, eh?

A Rant for Another Day

So, I've been watching the commercials in praise of Indian gaming, and wondering...

...why do the tribes have to justify anything?  Reservations are sovereign territory.

Hmph.

More on that another day.

Meanwhile, I've found a nifty site called FreeRice.  Supposedly, they use ad revenue from the site to donate rice to poor areas across the world. 

When you arrive at the site, you are greeted with a multiple choice vocabulary question like "ingredient means _____" and you click on the appropriate synonym.  Each time you do, the page refreshes, and the ads reload, thus generating more ad revenue for the site.

They present this visually, by the way, showing a bowl filling with 10 grains of rice for each word you get correct.

For each three words you get right, you advance a level (from 1 to 50).  The highest I've made it to so far is 45.

Even if the site doesn't donate the money as it says, the vocabulary game is fun.

Also?

Every time I've played I've been given the word "effulgent" (it's the only word I've gotten more than once).  The only reason I actually know the word is from Buffy.  Heh.

In other news, the wayward cat has been found.  She is the least intelligent of all of them, including Jaime, who we think has brain damage from his traumatic infancy, and apparently didn't notice she was lost all by herself in the garage for nearly 24 hours.

Either that, or she couldn't find her way back to the door.

No, No, No, No, No, No, NO

So, I'm innocently typing up school stuff (I'm going to take advantage of no kiddos tomorrow) when I hear...

It's the most wonderful time of the year
It's the most wonderful time of the year
With the kids jingle-belling
And everyone telling you
Be of good cheer
It's the most wonderful time of the year

I'm terribly sorry to be a party pooper, but IT'S NOT EVEN HALLOWEEN YET.

Ahem.