Spanked

Anyone recall how in my last post I was talking about the 'right' time to leave for school, and how leaving earlier wasn't any better than leaving with justenough time to get there because leaving earlier means that we just sit in a long line of cars, inching toward the drop zone?

Yeah......About that.

Seems that teachers tend to notice when your kid is consistently 5 minutes late getting to home room. Seems that when they notice, they tend to get all phone call-y and whatnot, and even if they're very nice about it, they have that teacherly voice that causes instant puckering.

I guess getting Thing 2 through the school doors at exactly on time isn't good enough. His butt must be planted in his actual seat at 8:05, which now of course means we have to leave home at least a half an hour before school starts to make the 10-minute drive to wait 15 minutes in line to get him in the door, to the band room (to drop off his horn, which is the thing that was making him late to homeroom. (HOMEROOM! It's not even a class! (but I digress))) and then to class by 8:05. At the latest.

Or...he can start taking the bus, because you know what? It doesn't matter what time bus kids get to school - they are NEVER LATE.

School policy, you know. Never mind that the car pool parents are sitting in the same GD traffic the busses are, it's only the bus kids that are forgiven.

Yeah, the bus is looking better and better.

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Oh, the reason he's not taking the bus now is that I thought it came far too early in the morning. Seems like recent developments are making that line of thought somewhat 'quaint.'

So many things in life are not nearly as straightforward as I'd like them to be.

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GRAPHIC CONTENT ALERT: Don't read this next bit if you're eating, have a sensitive stomach, or don't find other people's ailments fascinating in a kind of weird way.

Did you know that gastrointestinal transit times of about 2 hours from eating to elimination are entirely possible? And that when such abridged processing spans occur what comes out feels like you're sharting pickled jalapenos?

(Grant, I bet YOU do.)

Makes one start looking for a pot of sour cream to keep in the crapper.

Stupid paroxysmally hyperactive intestines.

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Well, time to go make the best of this gloomy gray day we got workin' here. A trip downtown to the public utilities orifice is planned for the luncheon hour, but otherwise my dimpled ass is stuck on the couch, the laptop is a-hummin', and I'll be trying my very best to be productive.

Y'all have a good one.