Okay, so. Today was Awards Day at TB's school. He's in the 7th grade. His school is 6th 7th and 8th grade. Your basic Jr. High. (This is relevant later, I promise). The ceremony is by invitation only. If your kid is getting something, you get an invitation. I guess this is because space is limited and having the parents of non-recipients attend isn't really feasible. That, and it'd be kinda mean.
The ceremony (ALL things really) is held in the cafeteria. The tables fold up to make a bench with a back. Now while this sounds pretty nifty, let me add that the tables fold up to make the most uncomfortable damn seat you will ever have the misfortune to sit your ass on for several hours at a clip. The bench that goes with the table is made for early teenager ass. Not 40 year old have had multiple kids so it's spread a little since I was 13 ass. Dear God, deliver me from this fucking bench!!
So we sit there growing increasingly MORE uncomfortable while the assistant principal calls names for everydamnthing. Sports, Art, Perfect Attendance.
Let me address Perfect Attendance for a moment. This/these kids(s) are the educational scourge we all dread. THIS is the kid that will show up with the lung they coughed up on the bus IN THEIR BACKPACK and a case of Tylenol so they don't break their 'record'. Their parents can kiss my ass. And start paying my insurance deductible. I have those little fuckers names now. I'm calling Mommas.
This one kid got perfect attendance for the third year running. He's in the 7th grade. Remember the little factoid I threw out there at the beginning of this pointless babble?? Go back and re-read it. Yeah, you're laughing now. Poor lil' Bastid.
Anyways the Assistant Principal Lady FINALLY calls TB's name. TWH & I smile giant smiles. Smiles of pride (TB made the A-B Honor Roll) and relief (Our time of Abject Misery is coming to an end). We make it to the end of the Ceremony, grab our kid, and get the hell outta dodge. My ass is now flatter and not the good "Have you lost weight" kind of way.
I have to repeat this torture next Tuesday when we attend TB's Spring Concert for Band. God help me.
Me AND my ass.