Thursday is Lola's "Sharing Day" at kindergarten. She is supposed to bring in a small object, NOT a toy or something which would spark avarice and materialism in the hearts of her fellow five and six year-olds, but something with personal meaning and experience to share with the kindergarten. Lola decided today to bring nine year-old Iris Uber Alles's blood type test sheet.
Iris had been wanting to know her blood type for years, and so I gave her a blood typing test for her birthday. She was happy to get it until she realized we'd have to cut her open to get some blood. Then she decided to save the kit until one of us had some sort of terrible accident and then use the already flowing blood to determine that person's blood type. (Mommy was disqualified due to already knowing her blood type from her youthful past as a blood donor).
Finally Iris got tired of waiting for opportunistic bleeding and decided to take the test. The Sober Husband assisted her, but he was too squeamish to use the little lancet to draw her blood, so I did it. Iris let out a squawk when her skin was pierced (which was Lola's favorite part), but she enjoyed the rest of the testing process very much. Months later Lola decided to take Iris's testing sheet, with the four little smears of dried blood in different boxes, for sharing. Iris was disapproving. Finally Iris relented, on the conditions that Lola bring the test sheet in a plastic bag; that Lola keep the test sheet in her locker, NOT the classroom; that every time Lola left the classroom, she had to go check her backpack in her locker to make sure the test sheet was safe; no other child could touch it; and Lola could only remove sheet from her backpack in her locker at the actual sharing time. There were more conditions, including that Lola help Iris look for her misplaced money (Iris had accumulated about thirty dollars or so in allowance money but then lost it somewhere around the house).
The most ridiculous part of all of these conditions to me was that Iris hadn't wanted the old, blood-smeared paper any more and told me it was okay to recycle it... until her little sister showed an interest in it.
Now might be a good time to ingrain in her "Don't let the little pricks get you down""
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