When one door opens...

It's the end of the school year and this lil mama is le tired.  Is that how you say it in French?  Or any language?

It's that point where there are certain student faces I not only want to not see for summer break, I don't want to see ever.  I almost gave a kid a zero on an assignment the other day pretty much for just being him (which these days means being a liar) but then my conscience caught up with me and I remembered that's not actually how grades work.  My September self had much more energy and patience.

I feel better hearing that other teachers are exhausted and falling asleep at ridiculously early times too.  Especially the ones not carrying a baby internally and/or externally everywhere until one of them decides to just walk more than five steps already! or gets itself born next fall.

It probably isn't helping either that PDG has learned a new trick.  I guess that's what you call it?  He has figured out doors.  First there was the shutting of them a month or two ago.  It's cute until he slams it in your face and you have to tell yourself to not take it personally - made easier when you hear him desperately trying to reopen it for you only seconds later.  Next came the tugging at the door handle to no avail.  That lasted a few weeks as he's worked on mastering tippy-toes and sprinting through this recent growth spurt.

So last week, when I heard a door open and shut while I thought he was safely playing in the hall for a minute, despite knowing I'd closed all the doors in the apartment, I realized we were in new territory.  No longer is the toilet off limits just because the door is closed.  Nor the dirty clothes in my bedroom.  Nor the beloved sock drawer in his.  Nor anything in the catch-all closet in the living room we're probably supposed to use for coats.  It's all fair game.

Next will be the scary day he figures out what keys are for.  Let's hope there's still lots of time before that!