Flemville

Flemville: just to the left of fluville. Life here pretty much sucks eggs. Our entire living room is one giant aerobed. Used tissues, emergency throw up receptacles, and stiff washcloths litter the rug. Spongebob is on 24 hour watch-and a cherry popsicle is what's for dinner tonight.

One of these days I may have to do HARD TIME for truency. In New York City, a child is allowed to miss 18 days of school before they THROW THE PARENTS IN PRISON. Jesse missed 27 days of Pre-K due to my "IT DOESN'T MATTER-IT'S JUST PRE-K" mentality which so easily translated into "IT DOESN'T MATTER IT'S JUST KINDERGARTEN" and has grown to become "IT DOESN'T MATTER--IT'S JUST SCHOOL!!" (Note to Aron: the views expressed here are not necessarily the views of the PTA. The PTA and its members accept no responsibility for the statements made here in this blog nor shall such statements reflect upon the views and opinions held by members of the PTA...The board members of the PTA are fine upstanding citizens who can do no wrong and will never appear in an expose in the NY Times...OKAY ALREADY?)

So here is what happens... We schedule an "unauthorized family vacation" because Kip and I firmly believe that a trip to Disneyland is EDUCATIONAL and therefore worthwhile. We believe in exposing our children to History! Fairies! Rampant Capitalism! Riding the Roaring Rapids is a LIFE EXPERIENCE that you can't get from a book. A tour of Epcot is better than any social studies class. Tink is our greatest teacher.

I don't know what higher power this upsets; most likely one that listens to NPR and only lets their kids eat organic food. But each time we have done this: hording and saving our absences throughout the year ("you'll go in, say 'here', throw up in the waste basket and we're good...") karma has bitten us in the butt with a MAJOR ILLNESS prior to the scheduled trip. Last year it was coxacie (damn the spelling) that kept Jesse out for SIX DAYS before our 4 day getaway to the Contemporary Hotel. THAT WAS SEPTEMBER. I'm lucky I didn't end up in an orange jumpsuit. Now Jesse has gotten the flu that we swore we were going to get the shot for but never quite got around to getting--and as his fever rages 102, 103 and birthday parties get cancelled and absences acrue, I shake my fist at the skies and say "COME HELL OR HIGHWATER WE WILL BE RIDING THE PETER PAN RIDE SATURDAY MORNING NO MATTER WHAT."