You're not supposed to come out of a parent-teacher conference sweating and fighting the desire to go home and self-flagellate.
But twenty minutes with the droid who calls herself my kid's kindergarten teacher made me want to scratch at myself till I bled. I, along with some other parents, have noticed that this chick doesn't exactly give off the warm-and-fuzzies usually associated with a kindergarten teacher, but last night I began to really think she was in the wrong field. Maybe she'd make a good banker. Or a vice cop.
Shawn and I sat on tiny chairs with halved tennis balls stuck on the bottoms of the legs ("Cute touch," I said. "Yes, it reduces the noise," Robotface responded),
and listened to this 24-year-old, childless virtuoso of child development explain, with no lack of judginess, how she is 'concerned' about Lily's 'kissing the boys'.
"Really?" I asked, "Kissing boys? More than one boy?"
No, said Bionica. Just one boy.
"Which boy?" asked her father.
"Oh," she quipped. "Well, she's kissed Lucas a few times."
Aha. Lucas. Right.
Lucas, who has been her best friend since she was 6 months old. Lucas, who is the only boy from our neighborhood to be accepted with Lily to their K-12 charter school. Lucas, who, during a playdate about two years ago, got into Lily's toddler bed with her and pretended to be the "Daddy" (which entailed rolling over and looking annoyed as Lily sat up and "nursed" her baby doll).
Lucas, whose mother is my one of my best friends.
Yeah, I'm worried about Lily kissing Lucas.
I think, if I were this teacher, I'd be more worried about finding a new job when I get her ass fired.
Have a wonderful weekend, M'Lovies!!!
The Blizzard of '17
3 days ago