It just felt so right: pic.twitter.com/KzUFlklGSd
— OneFunnyMotha (@OneFunnyMotha) September 5, 2014
Well, I say them because kids gotta learn.
Listen I try to be kind. I really do, but the kids put my patience to the test. And sometimes I can’t hold my tongue any longer. The first day of school was one of those times. It’s exactly like this:
I’m in physical pain, people. And I have to let it out.
Another time I was in too much pain to physically endure it in any longer? This.
The other day on the last week before school started, as we were driving home from the store, I was doing my best to engage The Kid in some lively, Kid-centric, light-hearted conversation, and she was being a total pain in the… I’ll leave the word out but it only has 3 letters.
All summer long The Kid had been asking if I was going to miss her when she went back to school, and I had successfully avoided answering. I don’t want to lie. That day in the car I was trying to talk to her about subjects I thought would interest her while providing me with a little insight into her life. Inquiring about which friends were in her classes now that the schedules had been posted, she replied, “I don’t know.”
“Well, didn’t you talk to them and find out?” I pressed, remembering how nerve-wracking it was when I was a kid and you wouldn’t know who was in your classes until you went back and the relief felt at finding at least one person you knew in each. Knowing who was in your classes was the most important part of the whole school process.
“Yeah, but that was a while ago,” she snapped. “I don’t remember.”
“Ok,” I said before turning my head and mumbling to myself, “Just thought that might be something you’d wanna know.”
I tried a new approach. “Do you have your outfit planned for the first day?” The first day outfit was crucial. It was the sole reason for going back to school. It was the only point of hope in the otherwise bleak and dour prospect of the 9-month prison camp sentence. I recalled with unnatural clarity and visceral emotion the care and deliberation I put into selecting my best outfit. I knew the importance, in my advancing middle school career, riding on the outfit I cobbled together from the clothes I’d gotten on one of the two shopping trips a year we’d take for new clothes.
“What are you wearing?”
Ok, have it your way.
“Kid, remember how you wanted to know if I was going to miss you when you go back to school?”
“The answer is no.”
Hence my party on the first day of school.
Well, what would you have done? You got something better? I’m open to any and all advice. Because, Lordy, the teen years are gonna be rough.
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