This afternoon, I took Emily over to her school, to meet her first-grade-teacher-to-be and see the classroom-to-be and generally not learn a whole lot new about the plans for the upcoming school year, which ohbytheway begins TOMORROW. Ready or not.

Her teacher, Mrs. L, seems like a nice enough woman, but she's not the sharpest cheese in the fridge. Apparently 20+ years of teaching first grade blunts one to the finer - or even blatant - aspects of adult conversation. That's fine, what I need is for her to educate my 6-year-old, not to entertain me over dinner.

While we were in the classroom, there was another little girl, Abby, who was also being introduced to all of the to-be's, and she was not the tiniest bit enthusiastic about any of it. She was there with mom and dad and grandma, and spent the time clinging to their respective legs and asking anxious questions. "But what if I have to go to the bathroom?" "But what if I'm the only kid who wears glasses?" "But what if I can't find my locker?" And no one bothered to answer any of her questions, because Mrs. L was too busy trying to soothe the anxieties and worries of mom and dad and grandma. Poor kid. Life doesn't go any gentler on you just because you're not prepared for it.

Another mom and I stood around and looked maternal for a while, and then she made a comment about, "Geez, that must be an uptight house at night." I very offhandedly replied, "Yeah. I bet they don't use my Three V's of Parenting nearly enough... Valium, vodka and Vicodin." She snorted Pepsi out her nose.

I wasn't intending to be quite that riotous, but I was happy to spread some mirth.