Trippin'

I just got back from a little Spring Break journey.
I will be paying for the journey until school gets out, I think.
Wasn't cheap.

My mom was moved to assisted living in January. 
It's an 8 hour drive from where I live to where she lives. 
I didn't want to go see her, really. 
I know I talked about it here.

What changed?  

I can't even really say. 
But Eric encouraged me to go and felt that I might be sorry later on if I didn't. I still say I'd have been okay with not seeing her, but I'm not sorry I went.

My physical stuff keeps me from being able to sit in a car for eight hours without a lot of discomfort, so I decided to fly. 

Eric insisted I fly first class for the extra leg space because of the issues with my knees and the amount of physical pain I'm in. 

I didn't actually argue about it. I had never flown first class. Because of the problems with my knees and never knowing if I'm going to be having a good day or not so good pain-wise, I also requested wheelchair service to the gate.

I never expected to have to use something like that, but I was glad I did. It was a long haul to my gate. Haha, I'd probably still be limping along to get there if I hadn't asked for assistance. 

Something I had not considered is that wheelchairs are allowed to jump the line. People with disabilities are just zipped right along.
That was nice, I did not have to stand for a long period of time. The lines weren't bad, though. And no ICE agents in the airport, either.

I flew to Boise, rented a car and immediately drove back to Oregon.
Sounds weird, but Mom is in a care home close to the border, so it made sense to do it that way.

The speed limit on I 84 from Boise to Ontario is 80MPH.
Yes, you read that right. And you know how the speed limit is 55 and people drive 70? Do the math. I was careful to keep it at 80 or a little below, and people were passing me constantly. Semi trucks are supposed to be going 70. Do they? Guess.
The facility where Mom is living is a lovely place, the people have been 'wonderful' to her, she says. I think people who do that work are angels, at least in this place.

Mom is mostly coherent, she does have some dementia, but the routine and the new friends she has made are helpful for her. She was not getting any kind of mental stimulation at home and was getting more and more confused every time we talked. Since the move she sounds better every time we speak. 

I am splitting the cost of a Memoryboard with my son. My brother will install it when he visits her again, supposedly it's easy to install, at least according to the website. The website exists to sell a product, though, so ::shrug::. I learned about the product from a person I work with. Her grandfather is in assisted living. She said that everyone in the family sends him photos and messages every day and that he just loves it.

Mom showed me a bunch of photos on her phone while I was visiting, and my brother got all her favorite framed photos and hung them in her room when they were moving her in. She loves to show them to people and talk about what was going on when the pictures were taken. I think she'll enjoy the memory board, a person can use the app and send pictures and words from anywhere.

The person who was caring for her while she was still at home kept her fed and clean, but had no idea how to deal with dementia. So she'd crassly say, "You already told that story five times today," or "No one wants to hear that one again!" 

Here's a link to some of what I had to say about Shiplap. Haha.
Guess she still doesn't approve of me, Mom called her to ask her to come visit so she could meet me, but she had to clip her toenails or wash her hair or some damn lame excuse I can't remember. 
Suits me fine, why the hell would I want to meet her?

Although Matt said after he met her back in December that he couldn't hate her, that she was just ignorant and seemed to really care about his Grandma.

So I wasn't completely alone, at least after I landed in Boise and drove to Ontario.
Matt and Amy made the drive and I stayed next door to them at the motel for the first two nights. We spent the day with Mom on Wednesday, and they left on Thursday. I spent the day with Mom again and drove back to Boise on Friday.

A few interesting things.

It was raining when I drove to the airport on Tuesday. The economy parking lot was packed, and they had people out there directing traffic. A person grabbed my little suitcase and put it on the shuttle bus for me. As I got into also-packed bus, a guy jumped up to give me his seat. I was ready to stand up, there are things to hold on to. I told him I'd be fine, he said, "No, I insist."

When it was time to get off the bus at the terminal, another man who was traveling with his wife insisted on lifting my suitcase down to the sidewalk, then offered his assistance to help me get down the steps. 

The person pushing the wheelchair was a very nice tiny little lady. 
She pushed my chair so fast I could feel a breeze.

The flight attendants to and from were great as well, one of them stowed my bag in the overhead bin (they're not supposed to be lifting bags, a thing I didn't know until later) and brought me some water to swallow my Excedrin with.

Not a fan of the tiny little airplane bathroom. I'm not exactly a small person. I mean, when you gotta go, you gotta go. But I'd prefer not to use airplane restrooms.

There were a few notable events. I almost took a nosedive down an escalator in Boise, I really don't know what happened but my suitcase and my feet missed one step and I frantically reached out my right hand to grab the handrail. Nearly missed it. That would have been a real treat, huh?

The event that stands out the most happened when I was waiting to go home.
You know how the PA system at the airport has a bunch of automated and live messages? 'Don't leave your suitcase unattended, flight 225 to Pullman now boarding at gate 23, arriving passenger Smith please meet your party at baggage claim 2'

Just messages. They're loud enough that if they apply to you, you'll hear them, but low enough that you can ignore them if you don't need to hear them.

I was sitting at the gate, waiting to board when this announcement came over the PA system. This is as close to word for word as I can remember it.

A (loud!!) deep male voice that sounded pissed as hell said, "Will the family with the blue flags on their suitcases please get your children off the escalator! I can't believe I have to say this, but the escalator is not a toy!"

At least a quarter of the people in the airport started laughing. 
I wished I was still in that half of the terminal so I could have seen what happened with the escalators.

Took a few pics.   

Enlarge this one and read the plaque.
Then ask yourself, "WHO IS THIS MESSAGE INTENDED FOR???"
I mean, usually signs like these happen because someone already did the thing.
Ugh.

This was the view as we circled around Mt. Hood.

This is Malheur Butte, an extinct little volcano in Eastern Oregon.
It's 500 feet tall.
My memory placed it on the opposite side of the highway.
I was surprised when I passed it.
We left that area in 1969.
Been awhile.

Mom's living room. 
I sat on that chair for two days.

My rental car had 426 miles on the odometer when I picked it up.
Practically new.
Nice to connect my phone via Bluetooth and have the car tell me where to drive. Car rental process is streamlined and professional. Made the reservations online, walked up to the counter, got my keys and was on my way in just a couple minutes.
Car return was really cool. Drive in, put the vehicle in the line, say hi to the attendant who gives you your total and drop the keys in the cup holder. 
15 seconds to turn it in.

This sprinkler was a couple inches below the 8 foot ceiling in my motel room.
Here's another one of those signs.
Again... when they have to make a warning sign, 
that means someone has already done the thing.

I'm glad to be home. I missed my husband, my shower, my bed, my little no-frills car.
A regular schedule, too. I was exhausted when I got home, didn't sleep well while I was gone.

But I went, saw my mom and got home safely.

Spring Break went awfully fast since I wasn't, you know, taking a break!

Some Assistance if you can...

My blogfriend Mary has had more than her fair share of crap going on lately. If you don't read her blog, click on that and go read for the last month or so. 

The latest crummy thing happening is that her daughter is ill.

She could use some financial assistance.

Sometimes we have an opportunity to do a good thing for someone.
It doesn't have to be a large donation, small donations add up. 

A GoFundMe has been set up.
You can donate to  Lizzie's fund here. 

Employer Comparison.... Then

I didn't expect to love this work when I applied at Champions (a division of KinderCare) in 2004.

We needed a little extra cash.
I figured it would fit into my schedule, I could still homeschool my kids and get them to various activities and bonus... I knew how to babysit* already. 

They were only able to offer me 10 hours a week at first, which was great.
That was October. By mid-December, I was working 30 hours a week.
Lots of turnover in day care.
Haha, trust me. Not everyone is cut out for it.

*After I started the job, I realized how wrong I was about the whole babysitting thing. 
There are people doing the work who haven't figured that out (and run crappy programs because of it), and some who took the job thinking it would be easy, but they get sifted out like (most of) the weevils in a sack of flour. 

Show of hands... who hasn't found bugs in their food on occasion? 
There are bugs in the day care business, too.

It was a wonderful fit for me and I enjoyed it. 

It didn't (and still doesn't, 22 years later) feel like work most of the time.

I worked in four or five different programs at first. 

Monday Here and Tuesday There and on my way to Somewhere Else on Wednesday only to get a call en route and a request to be at Another Place Entirely.

Being sent to several different sites is part of the beginner game in this line of work. 
They send you where they need coverage to keep the adult/child ratio legal. It's not easy, you don't know the kids, you don't know where things are kept, you don't know the specific rules of the program. Mostly you're just a warm body to keep the program legal. 

Ha, strictly speaking, Champions wasn't as concerned about legal ratio as they should have been. 

Still aren't, I keep in touch with a few former co-workers. I have no way of knowing how often they run out of ratio now, but I can tell you for sure they do it, they don't report it, and although those rules exist for a reason they DO. NOT. CARE.

Champions is still concerned with only one thing. 
Revenue.

I could tell them at least four ways for their company to make a lot more money without having to invest a damn dime, not that I would bother. 

I'd rather see the company fall apart. 
Unfortunately it won't, but they do restructure every six years or so to get out from under a bunch of discrimination lawsuits. It's possible they don't like people who look physically handicapped. 

One case I know personally, the site director used a wheelchair and was written up for 'not hanging children's art high enough' on the walls. Did that dumb cow Sherri offer to help? Hell no. What a bitch.

Assholes.

Anyway.
When I first started this job, some programs were calmer than others. The program I was routinely sent to on Wednesdays was a screaming madhouse. If that had ended up being my daily placement after a few months, I would have quit. 

I sure wouldn't be where I am now. The site director was a nice enough person, but she was terrible at keeping kids occupied. It was loud and chaotic from the time school was out until I left when the numbers dropped to 15 kids.

But Sunshine, who directed the only site that didn't make me feel crazy, asked our manager if I could be placed at her program permanently when her assistant quit. 

That was the beginning of a five year partnership. 
I learned from the best, seriously. I did not agree with everything she did, she was more school oriented in some ways, but she respected the kids and treated them with kindness and an appreciation for their individual needs. 

The site had been open for a little over a month when I began working there, the school was brand new that fall. I helped her build the program from a sixteen-kid group to 39 daily. By the time I'd been there two years, there was already a full program and a fall waiting list when school was out in June.

I didn't want to be a site director, said no at least eight times I can remember over the years, but I finally caved and accepted a site director position in August, 2009.

I stayed there until August 2016 and seriously, I think I'd still be there if it hadn't been for the absolute shitbag of a manager we got stuck with. ( The above mentioned Sherri/shitty manager is Sherri Burks and not only is she a terrible manager, if you believe rumors (my own beliefs are dependent on who's telling me the story and I am still in touch with more than one person who knows and I DO believe every shitty thing I've heard about her) she was eventually fired. Of course it was only 10 years too late for a whole bunch of people. 

Champions is a company with nothing but money-grubbing butt sniffers (my son coined that phrase when he was seven years old, I don't remember the context but it's funny, dammit) in charge.  

It's a toxic work environment when one has to deal with the idiots from corporate, but I mostly got to do what I wanted in running my site and the school itself felt like a second home, so I put up with more crappy treatment than I probably should have. 

I don't regret working there so long or so hard because I worked for the kids, but the company was (and still is) so disrespectful to the people who do the actual work that I'm not unhappy to have gotten away from them, either.

One of the ways they were disrespectful to us besides absolute shit wages was coverage of adult to child ratios. 
When I began working there, if more than 15 kids were expected after school, two adults were scheduled to be on site. 

If the second adult showed up and there were 15 kids or fewer, that second adult was given the option to stay for two hours even though the number of children was below legal ratios or they could leave.

Meaning the person on site was there alone and could not use the bathroom or take any kind of a break during the four or five hour shift.

About a year later, the company started sending the second person home even if they'd have preferred to stay if they weren't needed for ratio. So you could make child care arrangements for your own kid, get dressed, drive to a school within 10 miles or so, go into the building and be told to leave.

Spending money to show up and not being paid for doing so. 
Just one more shitty little thing they did to people.

You KNOW the salaried managers and regional managers and corporate posterior-smoochers were being paid for mileage and oh, they also had a paid-for-by-the-company car to drive around and nitpick everyone's work. 
It probably goes without saying that none of them could have done my job.

They were well-paid to use dismissive phrases like, "All they're doing is playing."

Vicki was an idiot and a jerk. Learned about kids from a book. No empathy for them and very little emotional intelligence/compassion/understanding. Bah.

Okay, so I learned how to work with kids. 
I thought I knew how. 
I didn't.
 
Worked for Champions for 12 years, would be there still if it hadn't been for the worst manager I've ever seen. Still, 12 years of paid training is 12 years of paid training.

Sherri apparently was pissed off that I quit and didn't let her know at the end of the school year. 

I didn't know at the end of the school year that I was leaving, actually.
Even though they treated me like crap once that ignorant cow took over, I figured I'd stay and outlast her.

But then I found a job that seemed like a better fit and wrote her a great resignation letter.
Not that she learned anything from it.

I'd still like to kick her in the taco.

Sadly, the ability to kick that high is probably lost to me forever. Doesn't matter, I won't get an opportunity to kick her any time soon.

I didn't get the new job until mid August that year, but I knew in plenty of time to give her at least three week's notice. I didn't bother doing that, instead I gave only 10 days.  I did that for my families, not for the company, I sent letters to them all. I figured word would get back to her that I was leaving, so I did the courtesy of letting her know via email.

In hindsight, I should have just not shown up on the first day of school. Since she blacklisted me after that anyway. 
"Not eligible for rehire".

I heard from more than one of my families that the program 'went to hell' after I left.
Not surprised.

About a year ago a reporter from a national news organization saw a post from me on social media regarding my experiences working for the KinderCare conglomerate. 

I strongly recommended to a person that working for someone besides KC was a good idea. I stated that there were many wonderful people doing the actual work, but that KC is a toxic corporation in my opinion and most people would be treated with more respect elsewhere.

I gave the reporter some information, taking care to keep it factual, and connected her with other people I'd worked with. Some of them still work there, some are no longer with the organization.

I've never seen an article about everything, but to be fair, I haven't looked, either.

Huh. Guess I should go surf the internet.

Okay, I'm back.

I didn't find anything with the reporter's byline, but I sure found a lot of stuff about toxic KinderCare centers.

Thing is, a lot of the people who work there actually care about kids. 
But management doesn't give a shit.

One more tidbit about them.

One summer, Brashley did a stupid and insisted on roller skating with the kids. She said she fell in the bathroom, ( still don't believe it)  so she had to go to a doctor. 

He put her on half a percocet twice a day, so she was bleating about taking mind-altering drugs and how she couldn't possibly work with kids. She ended up working at KinderCare corporate (another fucking waste of money, that place).

She was there doing filing when Jeanne and her cohorts, Asbury-who-we-all-called-Assberry and Vicky learned after writing a letter to the state that they didn't have to pay us for all of our training hours. 
And not required to pay for the courses we took (you can find them online and have them count toward your yearly training hours requirements) at all.

Something else that had made us feel a tiny bit more respected was being taken away.

Jeanne and Assberry high-fived each other when they got their response email from the state.

They were thrilled that they wouldn't have to pay us for our yearly required trainings.

Assholes.

I called Rob Martin on that one, though. 
Told him that if I wasn't worth an extra couple hundred bucks a year with all that I contributed, that maybe I shouldn't be working there.

After that, our trainings were still paid for, but we weren't paid for the hours we spent taking them unless it was a corporate sponsored session.

I'll say it again.

Assholes. 

Splash

There is another after school group in the building.

I'm not sure which 'at risk kids' entity they're working for, but I know they aren't required to license.

This means that just about any adult off the street who wants to work with kids can be hired. No background check and no training. 

To work under an actual day care license and do what I do takes an FBI background check, including fingerprints before you can even walk in the door. I have co-workers who have job coaches on site, and even the job coaches must submit fingerprints and do an FBI background check. 

To be a site director takes a fair bit of experience and training. Probably don't need to explain that experience teaches you far more than formal training.

So yeah. This other group in the building.
I watch them as they run screaming ...

the kids I mean, the adults aren't screaming, (at least on the outside) through our area to exit the back doors and hit the playground.

They've recently begun carrying a little first aid kit with them, a definite improvement over the last 2 years when they go out with nothing but some playground equipment. I have given bandages to them more than once. 

Yeah, I know, not my responsibility, but the alternative is to just let a kid bleed. 
Can't do it.

But this week I noticed they're finally carrying a kit on their way out to the playground.

They still run and scream on their way out the doors, and quite often are wandering around the building unaccompanied in pairs and trios while they're supposed to be in their upstairs classroom. I have to monitor our restroom area carefully. Our rule is one kid at a time for safety purposes.

I've had to ask them to please go back to their group when the action is getting ridiculous in the restroom area. They are never alone, always with at least one friend, and they're loud, messy and since no one is watching them, they do whatever they feel like doing.

I go to the area and ask them to please rejoin their group, that I have kids who need to use the restroom and they can't while other groups are there.

They aren't always polite when I ask them to go, but I have a thick skin. I talk with the person in charge of their program on occasion, she actually is pretty good at her job.

But when Brian came back from washing his hands on Wednesday and his entire front was soaking wet and he told me 'a couple of kids' had splashed him, I was full of righteous anger.

I immediately texted Anna, our front office person and let her know what had happened, told her I can't leave the kids but since it just happened, it seems that they'd know which kids had left their classroom area.

She was on it. Showed up about 30 seconds later with a laptop for Brian to look at to try to identify the kids who had splashed him. He pointed out two photos of girls and said, "It was this one and this one."

Anna went upstairs to talk with the kid wranglers.

I didn't see her again that afternoon, but I know she has a million things going on. Brian was fine, just a little wet.

I wrote an incident report and notified his dad in person about what had happened.
Called my manager, too. Covered all the bases.

The next afternoon, Anna stopped by while I was setting up program. I asked her if she thought we'd be having any more issues. 

She said, "Well. About that. He lied."

My mouth dropped open. Of all the kids in my care, he's the absolute last one I'd expect a lie from. 
"Whaaaattt???"

"Yep. We wanted to make sure we weren't falsely accusing anyone of wrongdoing, so we viewed the video footage. He went around the corner into the sink area alone, was there for about two minutes, and came back out alone and soaked. No one went into that area for the 10 minutes before, and no one came out after he did, and we watched for another couple of minutes."

I really was speechless.

BRIAN lied? Brian??? Little Mr. Integrity? That Brian?

Wow.

So she told me that the principal had called his parent and had a conversation with them, and that he'd been called to the office and they talked about telling the truth and how lying can cause harm to others.

I talked with him briefly, too.
Explained that I have to be able to trust him. That I tell him the truth and expect the same courtesy.

His mom told me at pickup that she thought he just told a little lie and then things got away from him and he didn't know how to get out of it, so he just went with it.

He's six. Lying is age-appropriate behavior, and they do (usually) outgrow it.

But I'm still really surprised that he wasn't truthful with me. He's a seriously neat little kid, always trying to help. Always nice to the other kids, too. I'm also taken aback by how he didn't blush, or look away or give ANY indicator that what he was telling me wasn't the absolute truth. 

Antlers

We made this project last week.

Steffie, who's very much like a little butterfly herself, was really excited about coloring it. She did ask for a little help cutting it out.

"I am having trouble cutting the antlers," she told me. "I couldn't decide what color to make them, either. What color are the antlers on a butterfly?"

"I have seen different colors of antennas on different flying critters," I told her. "Most butterflies I've seen just have black ones, they look kind of like tiny wires."
That's how I correct their grammar, by repeating the word they want back to them and just ignoring improper word usage. Seems to work.

"Oh yeah. Antenna. Antlers starts with A, too. I get them mixed up."

She giggled. 

And then she colored the antlers pink.

ADHD and Fairness

Our Bailey has ADHD. 
Or at least that's what I think.

I'm not a doctor, in case you didn't know.
Ha.

It's my opinion, based on her behavior and inability to manage certain group expectations, that ADHD is at least a part of what's going on. She has all kinds of trouble during the school day doing what's expected of her, too.

She's an intelligent kid. Thinks deep thoughts and is good at expressing her feelings. She can tell you that she's feeling frustrated/angry/nervous/happy and exactly why she's feeling how she feels.

About a month ago, I watched her talking with two other girls in a corner of the gym. She had that look she gets when she's trying to help someone, empathy really shows on her face.

She crossed the gym to me and told me there was an argument between those two other girls that was getting mean, one of them was crying. I went and talked with the two kids who were in the disagreement and helped them figure it out.

Later she came to me and told me she 'felt like a jerk' for telling on them. 
"I didn't want to get them in trouble."

"You're not getting people in trouble when you're trying to help them solve a problem. I talked with them both and they're fine. No one thinks you're a jerk."

"But *I* think I might be one," she told me. "I can't just be quiet when there's an argument. I wanted to help and I couldn't, so I told on them."

I explained to her that she hadn't told on them at all, that she was trying to help her friends and that neither one of them thought she had done anything that wasn't nice. "It's not telling on someone when they need help. It's telling someone, which can sometimes be hard, but you didn't do anything wrong."

She worries obsessively about doing the right thing. 
Is frequently certain she's done something wrong. 
She beats herself up over everything. 
If she thinks she's acted incorrectly, she'll talk to me more than once about it, sometimes days later.

Also, I was Bailey when I was a child. I understand on a deep level exactly what it's like to be unable to follow the expectations of the adults who spend their days telling kids what to do. How it makes you feel so bad when you just... can't. And you get yelled at and punished and looked at with anger/disgust. There's also the whole fitting in thing. I never did. I didn't have many friends. It hurts, growing up like that.

I spent a lot of time feeling diminished and wrong when I was a child. I did not fit in anywhere. Not in my family, not at school, definitely not at church/Sunday school.
Had an unreasonably large dose of self loathing all the way through school and well into my adult life. Figured there was something wrong with me.

65 years old and still have all kinds of trouble with executive function. I don't want things to be that way. If you're one of those people who say, 'well, you just need to ______' or 'then just change _____', you lack understanding. 
Sorry. 
But it's true.

People like me (and like Bailey and scores of other small humans I've worked with) really have to struggle sometimes. We'd love it if we didn't have to, but we do. 

There are aspects of my life that I have more or less together, but it's never easy.

So handling situations with Bailey, I try to remember what it felt like to be that child. The one who really wants to fit in but blurts out inappropriate for the situation words. Or reacts not like everyone else would. Or straight up doesn't even hear what's being said, even when it's face to face. 

We may even look you in the eye, but chances are, we don't hear you. Or we hear part of it and get the rest wrong.
I assure you, it's not on purpose. 

Bailey's one who can't change activities just 'cause someone snaps their fingers, blows a whistle or says, "NOW."
Some kids are so focused on what they're doing they don't even hear the person in authority talking to them.

This is the third year I have taken care of Bailey. She was in Kindergarten when she started. I know her to be honest, compassionate, friendly, earnest and smart. She's a lovely little person who always does her best to be kind and decent. She thinks it's 'because Jesus' but there are kids who are just innately kind. She's one of them.

Okay, so follow my little group outside.

We play outside as long as possible. 20 minutes on the schedule, but when the weather is decent and no one else is using the playground, we stay out between 45 minutes and an hour. They love it, they run the whole time, invent new games, just enjoy the outside and each other's company.

When it's time for us to go back into the building after our recess time, I blow a whistle and everyone lines up. We count them and/or do a roll call to make sure they're still with us and go back into the building. 

Bailey seems to be having a lot of trouble with the concept of going in, no matter how long we've been out. She runs away. She crosses the monkey bars four more (or five more or 10 more) times.
She climbs up and jumps off the wooden play structure.

The rest of the kids are in line waiting while she runs around, accompanied by William, my assistant. He's trying to get her to go inside, but she doesn't listen to him very well.
Ha. Of course she doesn't. She's focused on play.

The issue isn't new. She's been doing it off and on for three years. We talk about it, she does better for a few days, then goes right back to ignoring the signal to line up.

But in the past few months, it's becoming a larger issue than what I'd like to be dealing with and it's starting to affect other kids. They're either frustrated and saying mean things to her when she FINALLY joins the rest of us or they think since Bailey did it, it's a sign that it would be just fine for them to do it, too.

On Thursday, Aaron decided that since Bailey was running away instead of lining up, he was going to do it, too.

Before you ask, yes. I do give her a five minute warning. I do it in person or by saying into the walkie talkie, "Hey, let Bailey know we're going back in the building in five minutes," so William can let her know in person.

So yes, she knows five minutes ahead of time that we're going to be transitioning back into our program space.

It's really easy to get angry and put on a mean face and berate her when she doesn't line up. I could even do it in front of the rest of the kids, since she's publicly ignoring my instructions.

That's not what I do. 
It's mean. Power-trippy. 
I don't have to demonstrate to her or to anyone else that I'm in charge. They know.

But she needs to learn that sometimes we have to do things we really don't want to do and that it's not kind to keep everyone else waiting that way.

So Thursday, when she decided not to line up while we all stood there and waited, I found the stopwatch function on my phone and started it.

Six minutes. We stood there six minutes. Aaron joined us almost immediately, although I could tell he really wanted to go run with Bailey.

She finally came over and joined us. Some of the kids had things to say to her, but in characteristic Bailey fashion, she just let it roll off. I doubt she really heard what anyone said, she was busy making plans with another child to play Mancala.

When we finished with the hand washing I asked her to come sit with me.

Then I explained to her that what she's doing when it's time to come in is not fair to everyone else.

"We can't go into the building and leave you outdoors. We are forced to stand there and wait for you every time you do this. It's not fair to the other kids and it's not fair to me. I expect everyone to line up when it's time. Bailey, I don't ask a lot of you or the other kids. I want you to come here and choose your own activities, have a good time, be with your friends, make some art and do what you enjoy. So when I do ask a small thing, like lining up to come in, I need you to do what I ask. You ran around for six minutes while the rest of us waited for you in line by the building. So I'm going to have you sit here for six minutes and wait to go play. I want you to understand how long six minutes is when you don't have anything to do but wait."

She reached for a book that was on the table, and I said, "No. You get to sit here for six minutes and do nothing. No book, no coloring, no fidgets."

She wasn't happy about it. I know it hurt her feelings, something I don't like. 

When the timer was about to go off, I spoke to her again.
"I don't know another way to show you why what you did isn't helpful or nice to the rest of the kids."

"But that was a really long time!" she said. "I had to sit here and do nothing for the whole time!"

I agreed. "You did. I know it isn't fun. The other 17 kids were not happy having to wait for you, either. They also had nothing to do while they watched you run and play."

I could see the light go on in her little brain.

She then asked, "Are you mad with me?"

"I'm not angry at all, Bailey. And I understand that it's hard for you to stop what you're doing and do something else when you're having a really good time. But you have to get in line like everyone else when it's time to come in. Let's not have this conversation again, okay?"

She went to play with a friend.

On Friday when I blew the whistle, I saw her look toward the place we line up and make a decision to run the opposite way. So I hit the go button on the phone's stopwatch, which was ready. 
I knew she was going to do it. 
Knew it.

However, it was only three minutes. An improvement.

She thought she'd gotten away with it, because I didn't say anything to her about it.
After the kids all washed their hands, I did, though.

"Hey Bailey, come sit with me. Today you only have to sit for three minutes."

She wilted, but she came and sat. We had the discussion again.
I know that won't be the last time it happens.

She's a peach of a kid. 
She really is. 
But I'm not doing her any favors if I let her ignore the rules.