Ms. Glenda was one of Andrew's favorite teachers in Nursery 2, the classroom for 6-12 month olds. She's a real firecracker. I think Andrew admired her feistiness. She used to tell me great stories about the babies -- great because she sees these little cuddlebugs as real people with real personalities. And boy, did she have Andrew's number. I remember two stories in particular.
He's a lover, not a fighter. The babies pull everyone's hair, she told me, but they never pull Andrew's. Maybe it's because he didn't have enough to grab, I said. Nope, Vivienne was bald as an egg but they still managed to get her. So why was Andrew spared? According to Glenda, he avoids conflict: "Whenever he sees something about to go down, he rolls away."
I wasn't the one who decided to poop at buggy time. One of the babies' favorite activities was going for a ride in the Bye-Bye Buggy. It can accommodate six babies on their lunchtime stroll around the grounds. Even before Andrew could crawl, she told me, he would manage to roll himself to the door and block everyone's path so that he was sure to be one of the six who made it on the first buggy (he was not at all appeased that the second buggy was a mere two feet behind the first). I often would visit Andrew at lunchtime, and many times I arrived just as the babies were being bundled into the buggy. But not Andrew. Many of those times, he was screaming on the changing table as Ms. Glenda fought with him to get him out of his BM-laden diaper. "Don't yell at me, Andrew. I wasn't the one who decided to poop at buggy time," she would say. And she was right. Finally sprung, he hauled ass to the buggy and pointed accusingly at Ms. Glenda, seeking buggy-comfort in the loving, poop-indifferent arms of Ms. Renae.
More memories as I remember them. Die die, 2009!
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