Baby @ Work

Clara Grace’s daddy took her to work with him on the morning of Friday, October the sixth. The day was designated as professional development, so he selflessly decided to allow the energetic toddler to accompany him and provide a few hours of rest for his wife and new baby boy. The first activity on the agenda was a session on “Brain Dance,”--one of the latest trends in education involving stimulation through movement to improve learning.

Once Clara Grace’s daddy had successfully interested his daughter in cooking at the play kitchen area, he joined the other teachers who were beginning relaxation techniques in the center of the Kindergarten classroom. “Stand with your feet on the floor,” the instructor directed in a soothing monotone.

“Where else would they be?” Clara Grace’s daddy wondered sarcastically.

“Let your feet sink deep into the floor,” the instructor continued.

“They’re as deep as they’re going to get,” Clara Grace’s daddy reflected silently.

“Now lie on your backs,” the instructor directed and Clara Grace’s Daddy obeyed grateful for the chance of a moment to close his sleep-deprived eyes. No sooner had he finally begun to give in to the feeling of relaxation when he heard the familiar “jingle, jingle, jingle,” of his daughter’s rapidly approaching shoes. “Ooof!” he grunted as twenty-five pounds of toddler landed squarely on his chest and lungs.

“Feel your body sinking into the floor,” the instructor carried on obliviously dispite the snickers from every corner of the room. Spurred on by the laughter, Clara Grace decided the grown ups area had far more potential for entertainment than the play kitchen. She scanned the room and decided to join in with this strange ritual by lying on the ground and performing her best imitation of snoring. “Sleeping,” she informed the room in case anyone had mistaken her performance.

Then, she glanced at her daddy’s half drunk coffee mug and announced, “Need some coffee.”

“Did she just say that she needed some coffee,?” one of the teacher’s asked incredulously.

“It’s not how it looks," Clara Grace’s daddy attempted to explain.