"What's a strike?" were the first words out of Liberty's mouth as she lugged her much to large backpack up the hill to meet me at the gate. It was already dark outside. 5:30 is a little late to be getting out of school but who are we to complain? As she drew nearer I saw the half sheet of paper in her hand glowing white against the fading sunlight. Her expression was one of sincere questioning. She really wanted to know...."what was a strike"?
I did what my husband hates. I answered her question with a question. "Why, who's on a strike?" I responded, as if she never asked me a thing. She quickly said, "My teacher may be tomorrow. We may not have school."
We loaded all three girls and all three overly large backpacks into our tiny car correctly dubbed "The Olive". During the less than two minute drive home I was bombarded with questions again from Liberty as well as the other two. Finally I responded like this..."A strike is when adults pitch fits."
Liberty then said, "You mean like a mama fit?"
Lets rewind about a week to a night when things didn't seem to be going my way. While washing dishes I pouted out loud to my deserving husband, who decides to tell everyone in the room that I was "pitching a fit.....a mama fit." He proceeded to fill all our kids in on what he defined as a "mama fit". Basically it's what mothers do when they don't get their way.
So the girls got an extra day off from school last week due to the teachers' "mama fits" and it looks like they may get another one this next Tuesday as they're already planning on throwing another fit then. (Can you do that...plan a fit? Strategy....maybe that's what it is?? I need to remember this.) Which just so happens to follow a Monday that is a holiday. (Something sort of suspicious about that......long weekend, maybe?)
If the teachers can plan mama fits, then I can too. Stay tuned. You just may get an ear full.