[I have a tendency to what I refer as "post-scriptionism": if I could add a post-script to every social encounter, explaining what I REALLY meant, and how I had INTENDED to act, and apologizing for bits I got WRONG, I would. Email means that I sometimes do. The intensity of relating to kids, and the various ways I am too irritable for the job, means I feel PS-y all the time. Here is my PS for Clara today]
Sorry I was cranky this morning. I shouldn't have made such a big deal out of you getting a heavy winter blanket to take to school, even though I had specified that you should take a light summer one. You are, after all, only 4 and a 1/2. Likewise, I shouldn't have been so irritated when you only put on one sock and one shoe and then waited for me to put on the other ones.
And at drop off: did I look annoyed during our goodbye ritual? If I did, it wasn't at you. I had been eavesdropping while a teacher from another classroom ripped your teacher a new one over playground schedules and your teacher's disinclination to adhere to them because of the code orange and red air quality alerts that have been a feature of our week. I was annoyed at the teacher from the other classroom. I love you, and I want our goodbye ritual to leave you knowing that. I like that we stick our tongues out at each other as I leave--going to school should seem like fun most of all. I wish Winton didn't fuss so as we are trying to say goodbye.
Anyway, it was a less than perfect morning because my mood spilled over it like foul effluent backing up out of a sewer pipe. Perhaps, however, you remember listening to jazz scat in the car on the way to school? That bit was nice.