Dear Passive Agressive ECE,
We’ve known each other for just over six months, now. You appear to really enjoy teaching and guiding my child at school, but I believe you may take issue with me. I can’t be 100 per cent sure, though, because you’ve never outright said anything about it.
You just send messages to me, through my child.
In the fall, you told my kid that you’d like to see more fruit in her lunch. My kid randomly mentioned it after school that day; I asked her if you had told her to tell me this, and she said no. I can’t help but wonder if you hoped the message would be passed along, though.
I thought about what I had sent for my child’s lunch, that day: a turkey sandwich on whole grain bread, a cheese string, goldfish crackers, organic animal cookies, and sliced cucumber. It certainly didn’t qualify as a bad lunch. In fact, I always make sure to send a vegetable, every day. I don’t always send a fruit, because I have a picky kid who tends to refuse to eat any fruit that gets bruised on the way to school.
And really, I shouldn’t have to justify what I’m sending for her lunches, because you have no idea what food she eats when she isn’t at school. You don’t know that she has to eat fruit and vegetables as a snack when she gets home each day. You don’t know that she loves eating sautéed spinach and spaghetti squash. You don’t know that she prefers sweet potato over French fries.
I thought that perhaps this was a one-time occurrence, you overstepping your boundaries. Then, a few weeks ago, as I was dropping my child off late to school for the third time that week, you looked up at me briefly and said to her, “This is becoming a habit, hey?”
I had my toddler with me. He was the reason we were late, that morning. You see, we were actually on time as we were getting ready that day. We were in the midst of putting on jackets and boots when my toddler decided that he wanted chocolate, right then and there. It’s possible you don’t remember what a toddler meltdown looks like, so let me give you an overview: he threw himself on the ground, curled his toes so I couldn’t put on his shoes, became a dead weight so that it was nearly impossible to lift him up and force his jacket on, and all while crying and yelling “CHOCOLATE! CHOCOLATE! CHOCOLATE!” at the top of his lungs.
Needless to say, I didn’t get out the door in the 5 minutes I had given myself to get the kids and me ready.
The following week, you told my kid to please try not to be late again. It worked! She hasn’t been late since, has she? But perhaps next time, rather than passive aggressively shaming a mom into changing her behaviour, you could just speak to her directly to find out whether there are some external factors contributing to the situation you want to change. Everyone has a story, and it would’ve been nice to be able to tell you mine.
Sincerely,
A slightly passive aggressive mom.
