Not bad. Not bad at all. Then, there’s this…
My son once asked me how poo was made.
I took a deep breath and reluctantly explained it to him.
Clearly traumatized, he looked up at me with tears in his eyes and asked, “what about Tigger?”
Getting back to the stressed out and overworked teachers, my wife has been arriving home in darkness, around 5:30 every day this week. This despite the fact that her official day ends somewhere around 1:30. Well, apparently the apple didn’t fall too far from then tree. A teacher friend of my daughter recently took this picture of Kaitlin’s car in an empty school parking lot…
It is the life they have chosen, I suppose. It’s why every time I hear someone say, “yeah, but they get the summer off,” I want to beat that someone to a pulp.
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