This is what nursery was yesterday for Lewis and me.
We had nine kids.
1 cried/screamed like a banshee the whole time. On my lap. She also sneezed in my mouth.
1 clung to his mom like an octopus while I tried to pry him away.
1 pushed/hit/stole toys from everyone in the room. He got about six time-outs with no effect.
1 cried on and off for the rest of the time after she was shoved off the bike by the pusher. She also lost her shoe several times.
1 cried until he fell asleep on my lap and then cried when Lewis tried to lay him down in the corner and then fell asleep on his lap and then slept for real in the corner and then woke up and cried some more.
1 tripped and got a mouthful of shopping cart. Then he bled on Lew's shirt.
1 bawled like the world was ending when her dad left, but then was surprisingly better for the rest of the time.
2 were little angels except when the pusher tried to take their toys. Bless them.
None knew how to take turns during singing time.
Plus it was Fast Sunday.
Basically, what I'm trying to say is, I died yesterday. And so did Lewis.
But we got better.