Dear Theme Day,
You’ve become a regular surprise in our household, popping up unexpectedly even when I’ve tried to anticipate your arrival. Evidence of your impending presence often arrives in the form of a crumpled note tucked away in my child’s folder, hidden between a book order form and a sign-up sheet for the school carnival.
“Wednesday is Hawaiian Beach Day!
Thursday is Dress as Your Favorite Book Character Day!
Monday is Pajama Day!
Friday is Hat, Sunglasses, and an Article of Clothing That We Can Guarantee Your Child Doesn’t Own Day!”
At first, I approach you with good intentions. I find myself thinking that I should locate a pair of sunglasses, even if it’s the middle of winter. I remind myself to mark the superhero day on my calendar, knowing that creating a costume will require some effort. And I hope against hope that my child’s only fitting pair of pajamas is clean and free of unfortunate stains.
However, I have a job, responsibilities, friends, and a life that doesn’t revolve around catering to your whimsical demands, Theme Day. The truth is, I’m just not that invested in you.
Then, just when I think I can forget about you, I hear my child from the breakfast table: “What should I wear for my superhero costume today, Mom? It needs to be related to a book we’re reading.” Suddenly, you’re back in my kitchen, laughing at my predicament. My partner suggests simply putting on a T-shirt with a superhero on it, but I’m already rummaging through boxes, feeling the heat of panic rise. My child is distressed, convinced his costume will be subpar, and I find myself reassuring him, “It’s going to be unique! It’s going to be creative!”
Next thing I know, I’m cutting eyeholes in a bandana to fashion a mask, frantically safety-pinning felt to whatever I can find, and scouring for anything that resembles a cape. “What about gloves? How about this stuffed snake around my neck?” my child asks. “Yes!” I exclaim. “It’s all perfect!”
Yet you and I both know it’s far from perfect. We understand that any flaws in this costume reflect on my abilities as a parent, which in turn reflects on my worth as a person. It’s a harsh realization, one that you seem to relish in reminding me of, you heartless specter of parental anxiety.
When we spent a year abroad, I thought I had left you behind. But no, you followed me to a distant school in Europe for “Dress Up as Your Favorite Fairy Tale Character Day.” Seriously, Theme Day? Couldn’t you grant us a moment of peace?
And yes, I’m aware that children adore you. My child eagerly anticipates your arrival, as you bring a fun break from the routine of school. Perhaps we wouldn’t need you so much if education were less about discipline and more about creativity. But here we are.
Despite my disdain for you, I still manage to send my child off to school in a makeshift costume, pieced together at the last minute, yet he leaves with a smile, eager to show his friends, even if the mask’s eyeholes are uneven.
This is where I’m expected to gaze into my child’s bright, happy eyes and proclaim that every effort was worth it, that I take back my harsh words about you, and that I’ll treat you with the respect you supposedly deserve next time.
But instead, I say this on behalf of all the overwhelmed parents out there: Go away, Theme Day. Just go away.
In conclusion, while these themed days can spark joy for children, they often create unnecessary stress for parents trying to meet expectations. If educators could consider the impact on families and perhaps simplify these events, it might lead to a more harmonious experience for everyone involved.
For more insights into family life and parenting, you might find beneficial information on this blog post or visit Make a Mom for authoritative resources. Additionally, the CDC offers excellent resources related to pregnancy and home insemination.