Registering

I registered Chloe for kindergarten today. We live in an excellent school system that many want to attend. Our school district has cracked down on making certain that people who attend the schools really do live in the district. In order to do so, they required more paperwork and documentation this year, which slowed down the registration process.

I arrived at the elementary school at 3:22 p.m. (in the middle of a snow storm I might add) to line up for the 3:30 p.m. registration to find about 30 parents already waiting in a line. The line swelled after I arrived. Other friends registering their kids at other elementaries in the district reported a shorter wait time. Rumor has it that our elementary kindergarten class is going to be large. I gathered that already by the number of people in line.

While I registered Chloe she stayed at our neighbors house and played with their son, one of her best pals. I picked Chloe up after I left the elementary, around 4:45 p.m., and told her she was going to kindergarten next year. Here's the conversation that ensued:

Chloe: "Good, I'm not a baby anymore. I'm a big girl now."
Me: "Kindergarten makes you an official big girl?"
Chloe: "Yes. You have to let me do things now that you think I am too young to do, like sleepovers."
Me: "I don't think so."
Chloe: "Yes, because soon after kindergarten I am going to move out and buy my own house."
Me: "Really? Soon after kindergarten? When is this going to be?"
Chloe: "When I am your age."
Me: "Well, you are going to be in kindergarten for a looooong time then if you are moving out when you are my age and that is going to be 'soon after kindergarten'".
Chloe: "Yea, and you can live with me."
Me: "I can?! And your buying the house?"
Chloe: "Yes."
Me: "Sounds great."
Chloe: "And you can sleep in my bed. We can share clothes too."
Me: "If you are my age when all this happens I am going to be in my 70s. You won't want to share clothes with me."
Chloe: "Yes I will. See you think I won't want to share clothes with you because you think I am a baby."
Me: "No, you won't want to wear a 70 year old woman's clothes when you are in your mid-30s."
Chloe: "Yes, I will!"

So, I hope when I am in my 70s I am not wearing clothes made for someone in their 30s, something also tells me that Chloe and I will never be able to share clothes. I'm a tall woman by anyone's standards and probably a little bigger than she will ever be. But, evertheless, apparently kindergarten makes you a big girl eligible to buy houses---I hope Chloe doesn't become a mortgage lender.