Okay, so here it is: I’m never going to that g-d forsaken place you call school. I know it’s totally anti-establishment of me to say it, but I went to visit that place with my brother and after one look, I was out. He’s going into the 3rd grade. Yep, he’s a big boy. Annoying, but big. Anywho, that place is packed with other big kids just running around wanting to trample little things like me, luckily I can’t walk yet, so I had the protective barrier of my Maclaren. They are loud, stinky, and they talk non-stop. The teacher servant was not like the other servants I’ve encountered. She was talking about how independent they should be and how they would have to do everything themselves. Maybe this is a “Servant Training” class or something, but this independence she spoke of sounded like a lot of work!
I like it here in my stroller. I can lie back and sleep anytime the urge strikes. I have a tray for snacks, a buckle for safe travel, and a brake for “stop and reach” activity. Frankly, I think I’ve learned everything there is to know. I mean, with all the new technology, will I really need to know my ABCs or how to read by the time I hit school age? It will be like cursive, a lost art of the past. Look what the calculator did for math!
I hear ya, dude. Maybe that’s what Monday thru Friday is for though. To torture us!
I’m with you all the way, Ryan. I say we hang with the parentals as long as possible.
Pingback: Screw the ABC’s: I’m Never Going to School | Baby Ryan’s Rant | The Suburban Jungle
So not really on the same topic as your post, but I found this today and I just can’t resist sharing. Mrs. Agathe’s dishwasher quit working so she called a repairman. Since she had to go to work the next day, she told him, “I’ll leave the key under the mat. Fix the dishwasher, leave the bill on the counter, and I’ll mail you the check. Oh, and by the way…don’t worry about my Doberman. He won’t bother you. But, whatever you do, do NOT under ANY circumstances talk to my parrot!” When the repairman arrived at Mrs. Agathe’s apartment the next day, he discovered the biggest and meanest looking Doberman he had ever seen. But just as she had said, the dog simply laid there on the carpet, watching the repairman go about his business. However, the whole time the parrot drove him nuts with his incessant cursing, yelling and name-calling. Finally the repairman couldn’t contain himself any longer and yelled, “Shut up, you stupid ugly bird!” To which the parrot replied, “Get him, Spike!”
This leaves no stone unturned.
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That was a recurring situation.
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