It's 8:40 a.m.
In her shoes, pre-school sucks.
She can't nap on arrival.
She doesn't want to put on her slippers.
She can't feed the fish.
Crayons mean nothing.
She doesn't like "nothing" at the cantine.
Mommy forgot her sticker so she eyes the penned-in finger puppet replacements with slight disdain.
She wants to go home.
She cries.
She sniffles.
She timidly waves goodbye.
It's 8:45 a.m.
