Your "Aid" Is No Longer Needed. Thank You.

Barbecue at the elementary school. The kids look forward to this every year. Tradition. Parents and grandparents at school. "Food." Music. Cowboy hats. What could be better?

I dutifully packed Evie in her stroller, got shoes for Hyrum and his friend that was over for the morning and walked the 75 yards to the school from our back gate.  This was going to be fun, right?

The little boys ate very little, even the junk.  They were too enamored with the playground equipment and the quickly encroaching irrigation water.  My question:  Who schedules company in their back yard when it's full of water?  Apparently, Mesa Public Schools.
I let the little boys loose in the sand and started talking to a friend as we fed her triplets and Evie.
You see where this is going, don't you?  I didn't.

A few minutes later, the principal asked me if "this little boy" was with me?  Hyrum's friend was soaked--irrigation water.  Oh well.  It happens.  It's AZ--it was 72 degrees outside. He won't die from it.

So I took his jacket off, threw it in the stroller, and tried to wrap everything up.  Then I hear it:  "Parents, we have some irrigation water coming down, and we need you to keep your kids away from it."  Why?  Because its 3-inch depth is threatening to 3-year-olds?  No.  Because they said so.

Then, an especially grumpy aide accosted me, trying to herd me (and no better word is available than herd, like dumb animals) like one of her second-grade charges.  That won't happen, Sister.  I can tell you right now.  "And now he's throwing sand.  I need to tell him not to throw sand."  Excuse me?  I'm standing right here.  I know I've only been a parent for almost twenty years and I may appear incompetent in this area.  I know I carry no "certification" that allows me to discipline kids.  But you've crossed the wrong lady.
I'm wearing these today, Sister.

Said in more than a slightly snarly tone:  "I can tell him that.  Thank you."

I can't believe the idiotic rules that are enforced at an elementary school.  This same "aide" tried to herd Micah
out onto the playground before he was even finished eating.  This same "aide" tried to throw away the cafeteria delicacies before the kids had fully rejected them.  This same "aide" kept eying me, like an intruding tigress into her territory.  I don't accept these "helpful" overtures well on a good day, let alone one when I've only had 3 1/2 hours of sleep.  Good thing I was wearing my boots.  I needed to kick a little you-know-what.

Isn't there a naughty kid hiding carrots in his napkin somewhere?  Go find him.  Leave me alone.  I don't think your "aid" is needed around here.

Sheesh.  Glad I don't go to elementary school any more.  I'd be in the principal's office every day.  And we're already on thin ice as it is.

Am I the only one that is annoyed beyond endurance by people who take their jobs a little too seriously, a little too intensely, a little over the line?