For those of you who have never experienced the White House Easter Egg Roll, picture this: 30,000 children and adults trampling the Front Lawn. Kids shrieking to Willow Smith in concert. Every possible Nickelodeon or PBS character in costume. A Chinchilla rapping about hula hoops, soccer moms, and bullying. 86 degrees of relentless heat with no shade.
At one point, my least trying student "D" mentioned to me that her stomach hurt. "Keep drinking water. I know it's really hot out here." She mentioned it again and I encouraged her to just get to the exit where we could sit in the shade and have some fresh air. (Insert dark, ominous cloud and accompanying eerie organ music of what is to come...)
We creeped towards the free Peeps and commemorative egg table at the exit. Guess which one they were more excited about? "He didn't even sign it himself!?!?!?!" "Do you remember how many people are here today?" "30,000." "Do you think President Obama has time to sign it 30,000 times?" "(Sigh) No. (Pause) Can I eat my Peeps now?"
And then, I felt a pull on my shirt. And my foot. got. a. bath. In throw up.
Everything in me wanted to scream, "AUUUUUUGHHHHH. That is SOOOOOO disgusting. Ew. Ew. EWWWWWWW." Instead I calmly said, "You're ok. MY GROUP? ON THE GRASS. NOW." My poor student continued to empty her stomach, but this time I moved my foot.
We moved over to the side of the crowd and someone brought her a cold bottle of water. I made sure she was ok and then asked the others for any extra water they had. "Do you want the really full bottle or the half-full one?" "I don't care. Either." "Which one?" "You pick. Just give me one now." He handed it over and watched as I immediately poured it all over my foot.
"Oh," he breathed in understanding. Life with elementary schoolers has made me considerably less germaphobic.