Free Karen MacInerney - Margie Peterson 01 - Mother's Day Out by Karen MacInerney

with Attila might send me running for the peach Schnapps.  “Not at all.  Why?”
    Mrs. Bunn looked unconvinced.  Her voice was frosty.  “When Miss Pitken asked Elsie to stop barking atone of her classmates on Monday, your daughter inquired as to whether Miss Pitken had been… imbibing .”
    Before I could stop myself, I snorted.  “Elsie asked if Miss Pitken was drunk?”
    Mrs. Bunn drew herself up.  If she had been taller than five-foot-three, she would have looked down her hooked nose at me.  “I assure you, Mrs. Peterson, that Green Meadows Day School does not consider this behavior a laughing matter.”
    “Oh, no,” I said, recovering.  “I don’t either.  I was just surprised.  Blake says that sometimes… I’ll ask him to stop.  I didn’t realize Elsie had picked that up.”
    “Well, that may be the case, Mrs. Peterson, but I still feel obligated to recommend you take the child to a professional counselor.”  She handed me a card.
    “A professional counselor? Are you sure that’s necessary? Surely all kids go through phases like this…”
    “One of her classmates had to visit a doctor after Elsie sank her teeth into his arm earlier this week.  I would have to say that the level of delusion and aggression your daughter is expressing is indicative of some deeper issues.”
    I took a deep breath.  “A counselor, though.  Don’t you think it seems a bit much to send a five-year-old to a therapist?”
    “Mrs. Peterson, I must inform you that if you do not choose to avail yourself of a psychologist’s services, we will have to ask Elsie to leave the school.”
    Leave the school? Attila was playing hardball today. I tucked my hair behind my ears and straightened my shoulders. “I’m sorry she’s been a problem for you.  If you think she needs to see a counselor, we’ll take her.”
    Mrs. Bunn nodded.  “Good.  And if you continue to have trouble with Nick’s toilet training, I highly recommend her for him as well.  As I’m sure you know, late toilet training can sometimes be a red flag.”
    Nick, too? “I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me,” I lied.  If I didn’t get out of here soon, she’d be launching into Freudian theories about my son’s reluctance to stop playing with trains long enough to visit the potty.  “I’ll call the counselor this afternoon.”
    Mrs. Bunn nodded in approval, the task of ruining my day accomplished.  Another thing to check off her list.  “And before you leave… when will you have that article to accompany the photographs of the picnic?” She inclined her head toward the photo pack on her desk. 
    With everything that had happened during the last twenty-four hours, the article on the class picnic was pretty low on the priority list right now, right behind cleaning toilets and organizing my sock drawer.  “I’ll get to it as soon as possible,” I said.
    Mrs. Bunn nodded sharply.  Audience dismissed.  I grabbed for the doorknob and bolted into the cool morning air.
    Nick was asleep in the back seat when I slid back into the Suburban.  As we left the parking lot, I related my conversation with Attila.
    Becky’s eyes grew round as she turned onto the entrance ramp to Mo-Pac.  “She wants you to take Elsie to a therapist?”
    “If I don’t, she’s going to expel Elsie.”
    “Expel her?” She swerved onto the freeway, narrowly missing a blue Mini.  “That witch! There’s nothing wrong with Elsie! Kids go through phases.  So she thinks she’s Lady.  Just because she doesn’t want to be Cinderella doesn’t mean she needs to have her head examined.”
    “Well, unless I want to find another preschool, I have to take her.  Who knows? Maybe it will be good for her.”
    “Good for her? She shouldn’t have to go at all! That woman has gone too far.”
    I sighed.  “I agree.  But what am I going to do? She’s the director.”
    “We should pull our kids from the school.  Send them somewhere else.”
    “But