Feffer goes to preschool on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday mornings. He doesn’t love it, but the powers to be don’t really care. He needs to be in a program, especially since they (we) plan to have him start kindergarten in the fall. Because he only goes every other day, we have a lot of conversations like this:
Me (at bedtime): Preschool tomorrow, buddy.
Feffer: This morrow?
Me (confused): Yes… tomorrow.
Feffer: But not the next morrow?
Me (still not sure what I’m agreeing to): Right. Tomorrow, but not the next day.
Feffer (nodding with satisfaction): Right. This morrow, but not the next morrow.
The past few days, the poor kid has had a pretty nasty cold. His nose has been running constantly, his voice is hoarse, and he has complained that there is hair in his throat (smile). So, it wasn’t a total shock when we had to get him up for school this morning, and he sat listlessly at the table, obviously feeling pitiful. When he didn’t perk up, Jason carried him back up the stairs and put him back to bed, while I called the preschool to let them know he wasn’t coming.
I ran Fiffer to first grade and came back to find Feffer playing happily in the playroom with his little brother. Quickly realizing I had been conned, I couldn’t help smiling at him as I said, “OK, we’ll keep you home today, but you’re going to school on Friday!”
He grinned broadly at me and replied, “Yep, but not this morrow.”