But please don’t make me sign another agenda. Can we just get AGENDA AMNESTY next week? Cause I am thisclose to teaching my 5th-grader to forge my signature. I have NO DOUBT she’d be excellent at it.
I mean, and then all this exhaustion culminates next Friday when I have to sit through 8th grade graduation and try not to sob like a maniac while my BABY walks across the stage. My first baby. Three inches taller than I am and about to enter high school. I swear this was him just yesterday:
But this is the reality of how OLD WE BOTH ARE:
HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO FUNCTION?? It is all I can do to keep from crying about this 24/7, so *if* and when I find out it’s “Crazy Hair Day” for the 5th graders on Monday as well, this is the tiny puff of air that will just blow me off the cliff.
So, SUMMER, make your entrance. We aren’t just limping through the end of this school year, we’re being dragged behind a red Radio Flyer wagon with a broken wheel.
And it hurts.
I SURRENDER!! Who’s with me? In the words of the great Patrick Henry, “Give me the end of the school year or give me death!”
That’s what he said, right? I’m pretty sure that’s what he said.
