(I have opinions, doggone it! You betcha, I do.)
My poor dad got a Blackberryfull yesterday morning, all because of a link he sent me. An innocent little link that will either make you scream in horror or squeal with glee like Peggy Noonan with her maw full of pop rocks, depending on which way your blood flows.
I, for one, have been so afflicted with O'Bama fever, I can barely get my ass chapped over the $25 (PER CHILD!) cover they're charging for entrance to the boys' Fall Festival next week. And that's just to get a WRISTBAND to get in the parking lot. That doesn't even get you a BEER. Or cover the silent auction, raffle, snack table, and classroom booths where I'll cough up another $10 "suggested donation" (per child) for a piece of artwork my precious dumplings lovingly and painstakingly crafted for me. (Can't help but wonder what they'd do if I squawked, "TEN DOLLARS for this piece of shit? My TWO YEAR OLD could have made this!")
Not that I don't LOVE their little masterpieces. Because I do. Both Gus and Patrick are highly accomplished artists in their own right.
Take this piece by Patrick:
Popsicle sticks and glue on paper
11" x 9"
"Daddy When He's Mad at Me for Jumping Off the Furniture and Screaming."
Crayon on Crumpled Craft Paper
8" x 8"
So, clearly, my children's gifts are being nurtured at this school. And all the money goes right back into their classrooms, so they can delve even deeper into their studies.
Just this afternoon, Patrick (age 2) brought home this worksheet: