Katie got her report card today. Weird kid.
She likes both math and reading, the little show off. At the end of the six weeks, the school does a short honors program for the honor roll kids. Thirty minutes of kool-aid, lunchroom cookies and an inspiring speaker. Well, sort of inspiring. Katie’s had straight As all year, but we’ve missed the last couple of programs because she can’t remember to bring the note home with the time and date and we can’t remember to call the school and inquire as to the time and date.
Today, however, she remembered the note. I told her I would be there this time. “With grades like these, I don’t mind admitting to the other parents that I know you,” I told her.
She hit me.
A couple of weeks ago, she was talking to me about some seventh grade drama and I was giving her the benefit of some sort of bizarro advice, probably. Eventually she sighed and said “My friends all talk about how their parents give them ‘that look’ when they’re in trouble or they do something stupid.”
“Yeah, I remember that look. What about it?”
“In our family, I’m the one that has ‘that look’ and I have to give it to you all the time!”