They lassoed me good

Tuesday night at the BBQ/parent information night at Sebastian's school, I knew I was headed for trouble. I knew I'd be roped into something. And you all knew it, too. Want to hear what it was? Sure you do.

There was a survey that came home about interests and what I would consider volunteering for, that they obviously mistook for a contract signing all my "free time" away. Already I have been asked to do snack prep once a week at 8am or some hideous time. Generally, 8am is reserved for the continued wearing of pajamas, or throwing on a pair of jeans with the pajama top to take Sebastian to the bus if it is my turn. I am not psyched to have to get Dorian out the door at that ungodly hour so I can hope he behaves himself while I make carrot sticks. So far, my total time is 4 hours per month. This is before we attend the BBQ.

Then, I get this email from the nature program coordinator which I am confused by since I swear the nature program was the one thing I didn't show interest in. She wants to meet me at the BBQ. Okay... I go over and introduce myself, at which point I am handed a textbook and several photocopied papers detailing the monthly hour long class I will now be teaching. This class includes my performing a puppet show. A puppet show!

This is where I start asking, "Didn't anyone else sign up for this? I have an almost 3 year old. I don't know how this is going to work..." Of course, I can bring him to the monthly meeting at her house! He's so welcome! And I can choose the time for the class with the teacher so that I can find babysitting!

They lassoed me good this time. My only (terribly faint) hope was that Sebastian wouldn't want me to do it. So, I tell him. His reaction? "Oh, that's so nice! You know what would be nicer? If you came to teach once a week!"

Give them time, dear. Give them time...

I'm now up to a grand total of 6.5 hours of volunteer time per month, not including travel time, preparation time (reading the damn textbook), and those cookies I agreed to bake for the bake sale. Someone save me from myself. I am a hazard. (But not this kind.)