Anyway, last Thursday we went on our first tour of a potential school for the Muffin Man. I wasn't really sure what to expect, as the school from the outside looks a bit like something from Tobacco Road, but we were very pleasantly surprised. The place is exquisite, the faculty charming, and the students appeared happy. Even better, the school covers preschool through grade six, which means I wouldn't have to worry about getting my Xanax dosage doubled for about eight years. The Hubby and I both fell in love with this school. It's everything I've dreamed of for our son: great academics, incredible teachers, and an urban school that's an oasis in the concrete jungle we currently call home.
We were also pleasantly surprised by the other parents who were there touring the school. Because this is a private school in the middle of the entertainment capital of world, I assumed that we would be the lone couple managing to live on a salary of less than five million a year. For the most part, the other couples seemed to be surprisingly normal - no flashy jewelry, no outfits straight from the pages of Vogue, no snotty attitudes - all together a refreshing and not unpleasant deviation from the LA norm. I did get a glimpse, however, into the fact that there are always going to be other parents who are annoying as f*ck. I know it's impossible to get along with everyone and I'm sure there are lots of people who find me highly irritating, but I'm really going to have to get control of my short fuse or there could be some sort of Mother-on-Mother brawl at a school fundraiser.
Thursday's Idiot Parent of the Week award goes to the woman in our tour group who was pregnant with her first child. That's right, folks, she was touring the school before she's even given birth. While on the one hand I give her props for getting a head start, I can guarantee you that this lady's kid is going to be even more screwed up than mine. She was obsessed, and I do mean obsessed, with the idea that her kid could die while walking across the street to the school garden. Let me point out here that the children are not allowed to simply go play in traffic unattended, but are rather walked in an orderly fashion by two teachers and numerous parental volunteers. But this woman would not let it rest. She asked at least seven questions about why there weren't security guards, whether it was possible for her child to opt out of any activities in which he or she might be required to leave the campus, and if she would be allowed to sit in the classroom next to her child every single day. I stood there looking at this woman and saw her child's future clearly: he (or she) is going to be that annoying kid who's never allowed to do anything, always tattles on kids who are living life to the fullest and who ultimately ends up going buckwild as soon as he gets to college and lands in the hospital with alcohol poisoning. Say what you will about my relaxed parenting style, but at least I'm not raising a kid who will be smothered by an overprotective parent.
We've added Thursday's school to the top of our list. Sure, the tuition for one year of preschool is more than I made cumulatively throughout my acting career, but we'll make it work somehow. I'm just thankful the crazy lady's kid will be too young to be in Noah's class; I'm hoping to avoid any parenting brawls until he's in high school.
We've added Thursday's school to the top of our list. Sure, the tuition for one year of preschool is more than I made cumulatively throughout my acting career, but we'll make it work somehow. I'm just thankful the crazy lady's kid will be too young to be in Noah's class; I'm hoping to avoid any parenting brawls until he's in high school.
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