Class Act

Whenever I see the name of the boys' day care on my caller ID at work, my heart skips a little bit as I pick up. Generally speaking, they don't call just to say "Hi" or tell me my children are cute. At best, it's a benign request for a piece of paperwork. At worst...let's not go there.

Today Logan's teacher called at about 3 PM to tell me Logan had gotten a little wet during naptime (something about a pullup gone awry). Typically this doesn't warrant a phone call, as she would just put his shorts in a plastic bag for us and change him into fresh clothes. But today, she discovered that there were no extras in his bin. I seem to remember a month ago bringing home his extra sweats (too hot) and meaning to replace them with spare shorts for the summertime.

Logan's teacher looked around for some spare shorts or pants but she didn't have any that fit. So she wanted to let me know that Logan was spending the afternoon sans pants. She didn't want me to be appalled when I picked him up, which I appreciate. She assured me that he didn't seem traumatized (or all that interested) and that his shirt was actually covering his pullup, anyway.

I still felt a bit worried, so I e-mailed Larry, who replied "If he's like his Daddy, he'll find the lack of pants refreshing." I didn't pursue this.

Thus, for those parents at our day care wondering who the trashy mom is whose child did not even have pants today: C'est moi.