Today was the day I dread each year.
I know it's coming, and yet it chokes me up every time.
And just when I start to recover, the next chapter comes along and talks about Fern growing up and it tugs at my mama-side and stabs me in the heart again.
The kids always take it hard too.
So we finish the book and the mood is quiet, but luckily it was time for lunch.
The routine is that my class lines up and I walk them down to the door near the playground. An aide meets us there and I go into the teacher's room for lunch. The routine has also become that they ask me what I brought for lunch that day.
9 times out of 10 the answer is some variation of pasta or chicken.
But not today.
Today went something like this:
Class: "So what's for lunch today Mrs. D?"
Me: "My husband cooked last night so I have leftover potatoes, carrots and pork chops."
Class: Collective gasp of horror and a few, "How could yous?" Followed by, "Mrs. D, first Charlotte died and now you're eating Wilbur!?!?"
Needless to say I did not enjoy my lunch today.www.cfclassroom.com