Waitlisting

I swear, we are not hard core snobberific competitive parents.

But we do want our child to go to pre-school. We like school. Pre, post, ski, whatever. We are school kind of people. I did some preliminary investigation into preschools around here after being prompted by a neighbor, and my eyes are still bulging from sticker shock. Seriously, for those prices I expect Organic Chemistry to be directly implanted into her brain. Has play dough really changed that much?

So. Some of my mom friends were talking last week, about this toddler co-op they're thinking of joining through a local college, which would start in the fall. You go with your kid once a week, and finger paint and what not, and the parents are required to have a certain amount of involvement in running the program. As they get older the program changes, and you leave them there a couple days a week for the pre-school part, to do their important finger painting and block stacking and whatever else 2 year olds do(and in my world we also hire some perky early education grad student named Susie to take care of Claire Helen once a week, and then I go off to legal aid to save the world part time, and won't it be wonderful? Please do not burst my bubble. It's such a pretty bubble, and I like it.).

It's community based; it's artsy; it's cheap. It's just our sort of thing.

I called the location nearest to us, which has a forty-seven person waitlist. Last year they let in two people off the waitlist. The next location away has a sixty-two person waitlist, before registration has been opened to the public. SIXTY-TWO!!! Julie, the coordinator for the first co-op was shocked- SHOCKED I tell you- that we were not already in an infant co-op. Which you sign up for BEFORE THE CHILD IS BORN. So Julie here was shocked that I had not considered which pre-school Claire Helen was going to attend, while she was a fetus. I gave no thought to fetal education planning. Insanity.

However, a few of the co-op locations have in their by-laws (preschools have by-laws now, you know) a Schlub Acceptance Clause, meaning they leave a few spots for non alumni/ non sibling/ non infant co-op goers- i.e., us. The way you get one of these coveted spots is through open registration, which is next Saturday. We are to show up at 9:45 (No latecomers allowed) to the specified location, and collect a random number. Some grand poobah will then randomize those random numbers (why? I really do not see the point of that.), and call random numbers by groups, at which point we will rush the tables for each of these co-ops, and desperately try to sign up as fast as possible for as many wait lists as possible(or, there is the slim chance that we'd get one of these Schlub Spots. I am not holding my breath.). We will rush. The tables.

Randomized groups of well meaning, dignified, young, urban parents will be rushing and possibly elbowing to get to Julie the co-op coordinator and her bountiful list next Saturday morning at around 10 am.

I really hope that someone brings a video camera.

Claire Helen, who sometimes crawls, but only as a part of her locomotive dance, certainly not a go-to step, and who also occasionally likes to sit in the high chair and point at Betty so I will call her over to receive Cheerios, says hello from beautiful, sunny Seattle. I think I've forgotten to mention that she's been signing for milk for a few weeks now. We keep meaning to teach her other signs, but nothing motivates her quite as effectively as the boob.