Class speaks of a social stratum where a person belongs. Class is also Lower Kindergaten where ChooChoo belongs. The class wars have begun. Now I understand why my mum, bless her heart, struggled to ensure that my lunch box was ‘cool’ enough and contained lunch.
We received ChooChoo’s first party pack yesterday. His classmate/ name sake celebrated his birthday. I would describe the party pack to you. Please follow me carefully.
Weight- I don’t have one of ‘em meat scales in my house or I would have checked to get real values. Suffice it to say that it was ‘endowed’!
Height- One of those bags that an upper middle class family will probably share on their daughter’s wedding as souvenoir. Think about it. And it was a cartoon character.
Contents- 1 Jonas brothers water bottle; 1 light -up -in-the- dark toy; I pack of pencils; neither HB or 2B or 2A, just Hannah Montana Pencils, 1 Caprisonne drink, 1 biscuit- the creamy ones, 1 lollipop, not Chupa Chups, 1 large chunk of cake.
ChooChoo is one next month.
Brethren, I am afraid.
It is not okay to just say; don’t mind anybody, just do what is within your power.
I am revisiting the dimensions of my power and challenging it. “Power, why, oh why, are you like this?”
This is what our parents did. Stretching their frontiers. They should be praised. Thanks mum, thanks dad.
ChooChoo is one next month. Power, why, oh why, are you like this?