Old Mother Hubbard.

Went to BooBerry's Christmas Pa--- Sorry, WINTER HOLIDAY PARTY (WTF, with the no-saying Christmas?) today. At 9:30 a.m. I'm not sure who's Bright Idea it was to have candy, cookies, hot chocolate (also known as luke-warm chocolate), peppermints and marshmallows at nine-freakin'-thirty in the morning. By 9:40 a.m., there were 22 preschoolers covered in glitter, glue, frosting and HIGH ON SUGAR.

Boo then proceeded to beg Mommy and Daddy to stay for lunch. At 10:30 a.m. We discovered it was a finely tuned orchestra of going to the potty, washing hands, standing on the red line outside the cafeteria and going in to get their lunch. Single file. Except, being the Hella-cool mom that I am, I had not one but FOUR little girls hanging off me (Boo and her BFF Anna, Ashtyn, and Taylor). (An aside here: Bill, bless him, walked with Kate, who has Down's Syndrome. He's such a Good Dad.)

I also remember square pizza when I was a kid, and it was pretty tasty (but hell, at 8, it was probably good). This was no square pizza. And being the pizza snob that I am, I have to say that I apologize for the entire Jefferson County Public School system because that? Was some nasty sheeete. Take some Betty Crocker dough, slather on some tomato paste, and pile on the cheese (except, of course, my table of little girls would not eat their pizza if a SPOT of blackened cheese was on it). Gag. Bill went back into the caf to ask for some salt, but that has been banned from the school -- unlike the mashed potatoes they had WITH their pizza as a side dish and the cookie they got for dessert.

It was Haley's birthday, so they sang "Happy Birthday" and got hopped up on yet MORE sugar in the form of cupcakes (which have to come from the grocery store since so many friggin' kids have fucked up allergies these days).

We walked back to her class (and I picked up yet another hanger-onner, Triniti, to round our FIVE girls hanging on me, including Taylor, who seemed hell-bent on licking my forearm as she clung to my hand).

By the time I got home, I was freakin' WORN OUT (and I SCRUBBED my arm with antibacterial soap. Thanks, Taylor).

More power to those of you who are teachers. In two-and-a-half hours, I pretty much decided that if I never have that second child, it might be A OK.