Going to Jail

I got to go on a field trip today! It was the best, tagging along with a group of 3 and 4 year olds to a crowded arts festival pushing an 8 month old in her stroller and trying to keep up despite the stairs and crowds everywhere. The school district holds this annual gathering for the special ed. department, and Christopher's pre-k class falls under that. Which is fantastic, but seriously, you'd think that a coliseum full of special ed kids (i.e., kids with downs syndrome, physical handicaps and autism, among various other ailments) would be, uh, handicap friendly, maybe? Imagine the inside of a colisuem--high stadium seats surrounding the naked floor, with very steep steps to get you where you need to go. There was exactly one elevator in use and I had to wait in a mile long line to get on it. It fit exactly two strollers and two moms.

Fastforward to the end of the outing, and all the kids were sitting out on the front lawn finishing up their lunches, when I had to chase Christopher down to tell him goodbye. To which he responded, But mom, I want to go home with you." So, sucker that I am, I signed him out and drove the boy home.

He bounded out of the car and ran for the mailbox. He was so gleeful, since he always gets beat in the afternoons after school, that he got there first. He pulled out our one letter and ran down the driveway holding it for me. I asked him what is was, and this is his response:

It says, "Dear Dad. You went to the zoo and to work, and you didn't wear your seatbelt so you are going to jail. The End."

And that was the highlight of my day!