A few years ago, my oldest son, Jacob, a sage of a boy in his own right, said to my youngest son, Nathan, who was nervous about starting school, "Enjoy kindergarten! It's so fun! Just know that it's all downhill from there." I wouldn't say it's all downhill from there, but the road does get a little bumpier. I loved kindergarten. My teacher's name was Miss Smajstrla. No lie. I mean really, could she have had a more difficult name for a 5-year old to pronounce...or spell?! With a name like that, who needs vowels?! Impossible name aside, she was the quintessential kindergarten teacher. She was young, beautiful, engaging, and so nurturing. Circle time was magical with the letters of the alphabet coming to life before our very eyes. We all loved Miss Marshmallow, as we called her. She truly set the tone.
Then there was Twee, my first school friend. We always got in line together, ate lunch together, and placed our nap towels next to each other. During nap, we'd whisper secrets to each other while we peeled dried Elmer's glue from that day's craft off each other's fingers until Miss Marshmallow would tell us to be quiet and close our eyes. We were tight like that. One day at the end of lunch, Twee and I were standing in line just after we'd discarded the edible remains of our lunch into the slop can. Apparently, one of the cafeteria ladies was also a pig farmer so she collected all the food scraps to feed to her pigs. Before you ask...no, I did not grow up in the country, but now as I write this, I find myself wondering if the cafeteria lady was truly a pig farmer or if that was our kindergarten urban legend. Anyway, as Twee and I were standing in line patiently waiting for the rest of our class to join us, Twee's face started to lose it's color and just as she opened her mouth to tell me what I can only assume is that she didn't feel well, her partially digested lunch was projected in my general direction. With lightening quick reflexes, I reacted as only a close friend would. I dropped my Bionic Woman lunch box to the floor and threw out my hands to catch...yes, you read it correctly...to catch Twee's vomit and then I proceeded to tell Miss Marshmallow...and I quote..."I caught most of it!" You can ask me why would I ever do such a vile thing, but I can only theorize, because all these years later (and trust me, I have racked my brain trying to figure this one out), I still am not 100% certain as to what I was thinking.
Here's what I have decided:
- I was afraid Twee would have been embarrassed to make such a mess all over the place so I tried to help contain it.
- I was concerned that Twee would get in trouble for making such a mess and I wanted to protect her. OR
- I thought the cafeteria lady would make Twee clean up her mess and I wanted to help my friend, who obviously didn't feel well enough to clean such a big mess.
Regardless of the reason, what it boils down to is that I loved Twee and by golly, I wanted her to know that I had her back. Turns out, she had my back as well. Because she was sick and I had been such a good friend to catch her puke, we both got to go home early that day.
As the new school year quickly approaches, it's my prayer that my children will not only have the kind of friends who are willing to go above and beyond to help them in their times of need, but that my children will be that kind of friend as well.
I wouldn't necessarily catch your vomit, but I would definitely hold your hair back while you did it.
ReplyDeleteGirl, I know you would and I hope you know I'd do the same for you but I'd probably be dry heaving in your ear. After all, I'm a sympathetic vomiter. :)
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