While walking the dog:
Which is worse: Having a dog poop in your yard on occasion or having "Please Scoop Your Dog's Poop" signs posted every twenty feet of your property 24/7?
I watched the old lady scoop her dog's poop into a plastic bag. I watched her deposit the bag into a neighbor's trashcan by the side of the road. The trash had already been picked up by the garbage truck earlier that morning, so I knew it would be a week before that poop would be hauled away. Would the neighbor wonder why her empty trashcan smelled so foul? Did the old lady stop to ponder the ethics of scooping poop and then popping it in an innocent stranger's waste receptacle?
No. No, she probably didn't. You get to a certain age, you think the rules don't apply to you anymore.
At Kindergarten Open House, Thursday night:
When the teacher says, "I want to get through this as quickly as possible, because I know we're all ready to get home," you know you're in for a long night.
Once, for Show and Tell, a kid brought in a goat in a cat carrier. That's when Mrs. B., Will's teacher, started making rules about what you could bring in for Show and Tell. It has to fit in a paper bag, she informed us last night. I don't know, though. I can think of a lot of trouble that's small enough to fit in a paper bag.
On the First Two Weeks of School:
The dream of the first day of school is the dream of order and routine. Except there really is no order or routine for two to three weeks. The first few weeks of school are a chaotic mess of permission slips and enrichment program sign-ups and teacher-parent mini-conferences and Open House nights. Throw in a three-day weekend and weather that feels like mid-July, and you ensure that everyone will spend the first three weeks of school walking around in a state of mild panic. The parents, that is. The kids are fine. They roll with the punches. But we adults are like small, wounded animals. Please help me, we cry out in weak, pitiful voices. I don't think I can hold on to the edge of this cliff much longer ...
3 hours ago