Oct 08 2005
That little Abigail, what a bitch
My little girl, my Jadyn Elizabeth, started at a new preschool last month. I was so happy ’cause she loved the heck out of it right from the beginning. We’ve already changed her from 3 days to 5 days per week. It’s a great way to keep her active and engaged and away from TV.
Except, recently we’ve been hearing all about Abigail.
Oh, Abigail is the POPULAR toddler. My Jadie? She admires the hell out of Abigail. She says “Mommy, Abigail is so PRETTY. I like her pants.” Seriously - she must have great pants that my kid noticed!! So Jadie is all about making friends with Abigail. I can just picture it - they become best friends and later take baton lessons and learn the french horn and paint each others toenails and double date and one day they can pick each other for maid of honor in the weddings and to be god-mother of the first baby. Awwww…. It would be GREAT.
But evidently Abigail wasn’t quite so enamored of my little sweet Jadie. “She gives me ANGRY looks, Mommy. She won’t be polite. I telled her my name and even showed her my friendly smile, but maybe she thinks my pants are ugly.”
I start out all empathetic and supportive giving her little helpful hints on how to win Abigail over, or maybe how to have so much fun with Taylor and Madison that she no longer cares about Abigail’s disdain. “Honey, maybe Abigail is a little shy and you just have to be more patient.”
It wasn’t helping. She would come home nightly with more stories. “I asked Abigail if she wanted to play house and she told me to GO AWAY and that’s not very nice, right?” and “Abigail had a pretty purple dress on but she still gave me angry looks and wouldn’t share that Potato toy even though the teacher said that friends are ’spose to share.”
I was all ready to go Mean Girls on Abigail’s ass. I was ready to THROW DOWN with Abigail’s momma (”What kind of kid are you raising, lady?”). I was ready to file a formal complaint with the preschool that Abigail is a subliminal BULLY and is inflicting horrible, awful damage on my sweet innocent child. I was ready to plant some smack in Abigail’s little Dora backpack and call in the DEA. Yeah, the momma bear was coming out.
OK, so I wasn’t going to do all that (but as you can tell, those thoughts DID cross my mind). I was, however, *this close* to speaking with the teacher about it all. My heart was breaking for my little girl. It was obvious that Abigail was the cool chick and Jadie was being pushed out of the little toddler clique because she was the new kid and evidently she wasn’t wearing the right PANTS and let’s face it, her blanky dependency was fodder for ridicule, too.
So on Friday I march in all ready to do battle. But first I thought I’d get Jadie settled down at the breakfast table where the other children were already eating. As we approached the table, a cute little girl in blond pigtails smiles and pats the chair by her. “Hi, Jadyn. Can you sit here by me today?” All I heard was a scary evil growl emanating from my daughter, who looked a bit like an angry Sean Penn at the moment, as she insisted on sitting elsewhere. So I looked at the cute little girl and said “It was awfully nice of you to invite Jadie to sit by you! What’s your name, sweetheart?”
“Abigail” she said. {faint}
Now I suppose all I can do is just wait for the day they find the smack planted in my evil little Jadyn’s backpack, right?
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