Star Student

As a general rule of thumb, Mandy will show up for anything that calls her a star. So when she found out that she was Star Student this week, and that even better she got to bring in whatever she wanted to share with the class...pictures, toys, dust bunnies from under her bed(not that there are any, but ya know, if there were, whatever.

So, Monday morning I trudged into school carrying a trash bag worth of stuff. We had pictures, videos, a Lightning pennant, stuffed animals, even a caricature of her with Zachary and Alannah. Seriously, we were in need of one of those Grand canyon donkeys to haul all her treasures in for us. Due to my brut strength, I hauled it all in, with only minimal need for a post star student adjustment from my friendly neighborhood chiropractor.

Once we had relocated the entire contents of her bedroom to her classroom the design could begin. She pinned stuff on the bulletin board, arranged stuff on the shelf, repinned, rearranged until it was just right.

Finally perfection was achieved and I am told minimal redesigning was required through the week.

Friday morning, I was instructed, numerous times to show up with Oreos and juice boxes at 10 am so she could present her star student stuff and I could throw sugar in both solid and liquid form at the hungry mass of 2nd graders.

And that? Right there? Is where it all went wrong.

Very, very wrong.

I walked in...schlepping two boxes of Capri Suns, four sleeves of Oreos and my purse. I dropped one sleeve of Oreos in transit and darn near lost a box of juice, but i made it to the classroom with everything relatively intact.

I walk into classroom. My sweet daughter, stands up and waves. Awwwwww ,I love her. She is so sweet! All the other 2nd graders are equally thrilled to see me. So cute!

Oh. Wait. I have cookies. No one is happy to see me. They are happy to see my cookies. And my juice. But mostly my cookies.

Whatever. I can pretend.

As I walk past a table my purse knocks over a shoebox.

Oh, crap.

It is not a shoe box at all...it was a diorama. A space diorama. That some hard working 2nd grader had undoubtedly spent hours on. It crashes to the floor with all the destructive drama of being sucked into a black hole.

I, realizing what travesty I have committed, turn around and gasp. I look down and see a planet in ruins...not in the Al Gore way, more in the Star Trek way and am horrified.

"Momma!!! You broke Uranus!!"

Um, excuse me? I did what? To what? Cause frankly? That sounds painful.

My beautiful, girly daughter shouts again, just in case, people three zipcodes over didn't hear it the first time.

"Momma!! You killed Uranus!!"

The teacher, laughs so hard that she feels the need to leave the room to go tell the teacher next door about my broken...um, posterior.

I laugh so hard that I look like I am crying from the pain of my broken....youknowwhat.

Mercifully, the owner and creator of the diorama forgave me. Cause, even more mercifully I came armed the the greatest way to achieve forgiveness of a child. Cookies and juice. We fixed his Uranus display, ate and drank and were merry and all was right in the solar system.

And my broken parts will heal. And I am told, Mandy has achieved the funniest Star Student of the year, thankyouverymuch. Oh, yea baby. Cause, that's how we roll.

Love to all~