I don't know where she gets it...

My first year of teaching was...interesting, in more ways than one.  In a parent meeting once, I brought up a student's potty mouth.  His Dad swung around and said, "I don't know where he gets that sh*% from!"  Um, yeah...

So, last night we were getting ready to wrap up our day by opening books (they each open a wrapped Christmas book every night).  I went into the kids' room for something and was just appalled...trash on the floor, Kayci's desk was a mess...so I called her back and made her clean up her desk before she could unwrap a book.  Not a huge deal, but it needed to be done.

I feel so small, now.  When I woke up this morning, I caught sight of MY desk.  Mind you, the laptop has been plugged in by the couch this whole week...my desk is covered with a couple of gifts that need wrapping, a cardigan that needs hanging, stuff to take to work today, receipts to shred...it's the worst I've seen it in months.

Hmm...I wonder where she gets it.  Guess I'll have to apologize for my hypocrisy this morning.  Sigh.