I knew my three year old was ready for school.
Case in point, I had told Chloe I would pack 1/2 of a cookie in her lunch (because I’m the meanest Mommy EVER) and she could eat the very special, once in a lifetime treat at the end of the school day, last snack, not a second before and only if the teacher agreed it was okay.
I knew the little Cookie Monster had that doughy ball of goodness on the brain from the moment we walked out the door to the moment she attempted to mule the backpack (bigger than she is, dragging on the floor) into her assigned cubby.
According to one of the teachers, the first thing Chloe asked once I was out of sight was, “Can I have my cookie right now?”
The teacher suggested she wait until the last snack of the day to eat any treats. Sensing a conspiracy, Chloe asked the following, “If I give you puppy dog eyes, can I have it now?”
Before the teacher could suggest she wait, there was my three year old, pouty, bottom lip turned under, curled into a frown, eyes wide and droopy, head cocked to the side.
The teacher thought this was hilarious and so did I until a second teacher asked me, “Are you Chloe’s Mom?” Oh God this is going to happen all year isn’t it.
Yes, I am, ahem.
“Chloe asked me today, ‘Why is your bra size so big?'”
Awesome.
