Today I hate my name. The children. The children have made me hate the very sound of my name. No matter what I did, where I turned, what was going on, every single one of the 21 preschoolers in Room 101 did nothing but squawk, scream, whine, cry, giggle, gurgle, or call my name. All. Day. Long.
“Kooooorieeeeee”
“Kowie! Kowie! Look at me!”
“Korie!”
“KorieKorieKorieKorieKorieKorieKorieKorie”

On and on and on until I actually cringed at the sound of my own name.
Why? Why is it that these small, grubby, demanding creatures find it so very crucial to show me every single thing they do? Why must they seek me out to tell me each specific detail of every minute of their day?

“Korie, I’m so sweaty, I was running so fast!”
“Yes Squirt, I was sitting on the bench…remember I asked you not to spit on people while you were running?”

“Kooowie! Come here! Look what I can do. It’s vewy dangewous.”
following APRF over to the climber…
“Oh,yes, um, that one step is very high off the ground….very dangerous. Be careful up there.”

“Korie, Korie I peed!”
“Yeah, so, flush and wash your hands.”
“But, I can’t!”
“Sure you can Dresden, just try.”
“No you have to come see it first.”
“Oh! Of course…..oh, look! It’s yellow. With toilet paper in it. Wow! Now flush it. Really.”

“Korie, sit heaw.”
“Not right now, Sit Here, I’m trying to write notes for mommies and daddies.”
“You sit with me for nap?”
“Yes. I sit with you for nap every day.”
“I hold your hand.”
“Yes, hun, I hold your hand all the time.”
“Korie?”
“Yeah?”
“Sit heaw.”

AAARRRGGGHHHH.