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I should have known I was in trouble as I sat down in my grandson’s kindergarten room ready to serve as a room parent assistant for my daughter for whatever party this was. For starters, I don’t fit on kindergartner chairs. For another, I’d taught college-age students for a reason. For yet another, I’ve never liked crafts. Never. The craftiest I ever got was making those ridiculous potholders on a loom.

The kindergartners rotated tables among five crafts. So, every thirty seconds, I had another group of four needing to cut a tree form out of a green paper plate and glop glue on it and then throw sparkly glitter on top. So, every thirty seconds, there was a gloppy, gluey, sparkly mess on the table.

Thinking about it now, it must have been a Christmas party. Green. Tree. Glitter. Duh.

When the bell rang, after an interminably long forty-five minutes at my post, I was the first to try to dart from my chair. Knees stiff, hips bent into a semi-permanent forty-five-degree angle, it took some time. But that allowed my grandson to give me a high-five, turn to his table of friends, his face sparkling with joy, and announce, “That’s MY grandma.”

School is out soon. Maybe I better buy some sidewalk chalk for when my grandchildren come over. But then, if I’m called to help design their art, how would I ever get up off the driveway?

Maybe I should buy coloring books instead…with no activity pages requiring glitter or glue. 

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