I pretended to be an adult yesterday and chaperoned a field trip Maddie's school took to an apple orchard. It was the usual crazy mix of ear-splitting noise and bewildering chaos that we all know and love. Her poor teacher, Miss Ruth. I saw the look of quiet desperation in her eyes at several points in the day, the look of fleeting sanity that usually precedes the onset of a debilitating panic attack. One of the boys took off and wandered through the orchards as Miss Ruth counted the children again and again, hoping to get the right number this time (26). She didn't seem to like my reminder that "25: close enough" was probably not acceptable for a count like this. The boy was eventually found wandering in the playground area a quarter of a mile away. Apparently he didn't realize he was lost, he though the rest of us were lost.
The other kids, oblivious to Miss Ruth's pain, had a blast.
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