Everyone in O's class gets an opportunity to be the "Star of the Week".  This week is O's turn.  

Last Thursday her teachers sent home a poster board, four small stars, one large star and directions of how to put together a "Star of the Week" photo signboard to be hung in the hallway so that everyone learns more about O.  Of course I didn't think about it until Sunday morning when O woke me at 6:00 am and said, "Mommy, can we do my poster now?"  My answer, "Not until the sun comes up."  After all, we needed light.  

I climbed out of bed, donned my slippers and my robe and made my green power drink.  I read the directions three times before I realized that O already knew exactly what to do.  However, because of the sleepy crusty stuff I had in my eye (thankfully not pink eye) and the fogginess clouding my brain, the words she spoke were not seen or heard.  

First, O chose pictures from the computer to print, then using the five stars she chose her categories: me, family, cousins, favorite things, fun facts.  Finishing it off, we added stickers of Hannah Montana, American Girl dolls and butterflies.  She was so proud and I was just thrilled that I could go back to bed.  

That night after her bath she laid out what she wanted to wear to school the next day, and mentioned how excited she was to carry her poster to the bus stop and share it with her schoolmates and neighbors.  The "Star of the Week" was ready.  What could possibly go wrong?  

It appears there is a sense of entitlement that comes with being the "Star of the Week".  Monday morning, our adorable "Star of the Week" threw a tantrum about what she had laid out to wear the night before.  Then our "Star of the Week's" mommy was forced to shove a toothbrush down O's mouth because she refused to brush her teeth.  After that our sweet "Star of the Week" screamed in terror while I gently tried to brush her hair.  I then fulfilled the request for two braids, but upon looking in the mirror, O decided that wasn't what she really wanted and deliberately shook the braids out all the while throwing the rubber bands at me.  I calmly led our shining "Star of the Week" to the stairs for a time-out and I calmly took a "time in" while sitting in a chair meditating.  Then I heard the bus and realized we had missed it.

I went over to the stairs where O sat crying and apologizing, all the while admitting what she did was wrong and that she was sorry.  I told her I was sorry too and that I love her.  As always we ended the time-out-conversation with a hug.  I then empathetically told her she missed the bus and she smiled and said, "It's ok mommy."  

We did her hair the way she wanted it and then I drove her to school.  

The "tardy lady" was standing at the front door to greet us with a pink tardy slip in her hand.  Turns out, at O's school it does not matter if you are the "Star of the Week".  Tardy is tardy.  Kindergarten SUCKS!