So, the way our school district works is that if you aren't around in February to apply, you might have zero chance of being allowed to attend your neighborhood school. We missed that cutoff and then some, and then missed the cutoff to at least enroll in time to know which school we'd be attending before the year actually started. And the way that works is totally Byzantine: you attend your neighborhood school for ten days until the whole district gets its kinks worked out, then they tell you where they've got room for you. I'm sure this isn't traumatic at all for the kids who have to go through with it, one of which was supposed to be my kid. And it wouldn't have been as big a deal as all of that, if not for the fact that our neighborhood school is fantastic and some of the schools that might have had room aren't, so much. So off Molly has gone to a school that we don't want to get too attached to.
Just as everything else in our lives is becoming a huge clusterfuck, my phone rang today and lo and behold, it's the school. She gets to stay there. Even better, she gets to be in the mixed-age class that I originally wanted her to be in (which means a change of classrooms as of tomorrow, but better that on Day Four than a whole new school altogether on Day Eleven).
Incidentally, I'm not the only one sending bentos off to kindy (or telling the world about it). Citymama's doing it too, and since she grew up eating meals packed this way, I'm going to be watching her very, very closely. I just can't even explain how fun it is to set yourself the challenge of creating a balanced, tasty, attractive snack, and can't even wait until I'm sending full lunches.
I still haven't grocery shopped, so this is still kind of half-assed. Cracker sandwiches filled with cheese and salami, organic chocolate bunny grahams, and a juice box, which will have to do until we can get a proper drink container (and really, until Molly starts eating a wider variety of fruits).
And see, I added a twist of authenticity by cutting the cheese and salami into cute flower shapes. Well, maybe authenticity isn't the right word for it, but it does show that I care, right? Never mind my tragic cutting board.