Note to the J-monster: Please be assured that this entire post is about a certain little girl who is not Moppet. Any resemblance you may notice is purely coincidental.)
So it's official. Playschool rocks.
Yesterday I arrived early to pick her up, and passed the time watching the kids at lunch through the big glass windows of their dining room. I watched The-Girl-Who-Is-Not-Moppet shovel down her food with an enthusiasm she had hitherto reserved exclusively for jumping and noise-making. Honestly, her teachers probably think I don't feed the child at home! I watched entranced as she returned her plate and glass (helped by a teacher) to the kiddy-sized counter, and bestowed an enormous thank-you grin upon the lunch lady who took the plate and glass.
After being cleaned up - with warm towels, what luxury I tell you! - she then headed to the bookshelf in the corner of the dining area and pulled out a few books to leaf through. Her teacher's requests to put the books back as it was time to go home were studiously ignored. In an attempt to hurry her along, the teacher pointed me out, standing smush-nosed against the glass window.
She looked up at me, put the books back on the shelf, and trotted towards the door where I waited. As I knelt to pick her up, she gave a little 'where have you been?' wail, but I could see that it was a half-hearted effort, more for effect than anything else. (She's a right little drama queen - I know, because she gets that from me.) She then proceeded to sing the I-love-you song - aaee laaa ye - and hug her teacher, before letting me lead her out to find her chooz.
So playschool has been given a great big thumbs up. In celebration, we promptly bunked today and went swimming instead. And then we lazed around for the rest of the morning. No, correction, I lazed around while she worked hard on her thesis. She's apparently doing serious research into new techniques to break her own head. (Do they make crash helmets for babies? Where can I get one?)