This morning the kids went through their independent work independently (hallelujah—because it doesn't happy all the time) and then we went to co-op.
Phoebe still doesn't like to go to her class so she hangs out with me, and that's fine. I popped a snack into my bag just as we were leaving the house because I knew Phoebe would ask for one and—after playing with play dough and magnets—she did ask for a snack.
I opened her snack and set it on the little table in the classroom, where Phoebe happily stood and ate. Then the air system clicked on and Phoebe panicked. My children (and I) tend to be a little...sensitive...to noises. Phoebe wanted to locate the source of the whooshing and when she found it she panicked, snatched her cookies off the table, and backed away, saying, "That's not safe. Not safe at all!"
"What's wrong?" I asked her.
"Woot," she said, urging me to look.
I looked. The air vent above the table was dangling from the ceiling by a single screw.
She treated it like the cord holding a giant chandelier was snapping one filament at a time—there was no way she was going to stand under it! And she had a point—the vent is small, but it would certainly do some damage if it landed on one's head. So I moved the table away from that wall and Phoebe finished up her snack in safety.
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