A Conference of Daillaks

Bubba Mike Day

So, it's true, I've had a little writer's block these days. But there's so much more to contend with. I'm no longer celebrating Django's random 5-word utterances. I'm having to answer for the changing shapes of shadows on the wall, and the purpose of billboard advertising, as well as search for a preschool next fall. It's all so overwhelming!

Nice guy that he is, Bubba Mike has agreed to guest write a few words about his first 5 consecutive hours alone with Django this weekend, while I went on my first preschool previews:

So his mama asked me if I would take the boy to zoo class, she need to look at preschools. Anything for the boy, I said. Saturday zoo class was going to be prairie dog day. I wanted to do a good job. I went to bed early on Friday night in anticipation. I don't hang around kids, let alone unsupervised so I was as anxious as could be. DJ and I went to class, put on our name tags ("DJANGO" "BUBBA MIKE"), sang songs, colored pictures, petted animals, played on the playground, rode the merry-go-round, the whole shabang. There were several highlights that day that allayed my concerns (I am the most overly scared, safety conscious person who was ever allowed to be near kids - I have argued with his mom for a helmet until puberty) , warmed my heart, and made me love this little boy more than I thought I could. None was more special that when I asked Django if he wanted to go meet his mama for lunch and he said he'd rather stay at the zoo swinging on the swings with Bubba Mike. A little kid's seal of approval is not something you hang on your office wall. It is way more important and meaningful.

p.s. Bubba Mike went home and took a 2-hour nap after his time with Django, but Django was up and ready to go again after only 1.5.

Post-Halloween

A little bit of snipping, sewing, and 256 duct tape circles later, I am pleased to report that it was Django who ended up wearing his homemade octopus costume not me. For a day or so, it was close. He looked terrific, wasn't even startled by the 'Wicked Witch,' and forgot his laboriously collected bag of candy existed by the next morning -- which was good for me, of course, because then I felt free to eat it.