Have I mentioned that my kid spends her days with a fetus? Sure, she's a very well-educated and smart and completely competent fetus, but still. FETUS. Apparently they let fetuses graduate from college these days and they even hand them teaching certificates as they walk out of the door.
So today was Alexis' first Parent Teacher Conference, which means I had to fully face the fetus and talk about my kid without yelling "GET OFF MY LAWN." I should probably admit that the teacher isn't so much young as I am old. Is this what happens when people you used to consider "old" are suddenly younger than you? I'm talking about teachers and police officers and actors and musicians and the like. I woke up one day and POOF! They're all younger than me. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?
I digress. Or something.
In case you hadn't figured it out by now, Alexis' kindergarten teacher is younger than me. Did I mention that yet? I did? Oh.
I might have mentioned it a time or two for one simple reason: it's really awkward when you sit down to talk to a person and you suddenly realize that you have tapes, er . . . I mean CDs (SHUT UP. At least I didn't say "records.") that are older than her. I sat there frozen for a long moment, totally unsure of whether I should start the conversation or not. Who's in charge in situations like that? Do I just read the report card and avoid conversation? Can I bury my nose in my phone? Is that dirt on my jeans? Oh, she's going to start? HOORAY!
I wasn't expecting any surprises during the actual review of the kid's progress. Expectations were met. Alexis continues to live that double-life she's been living for eons. At home? Mouthy. At school? Totally compliant and sweet. I suppose it's good that she wastes all of her best behavior on fetuses and classmates. I like a challenge, so it's totally OK that once she steps off of the bus, she goes into Mouthy Mode.
Not really. I'd rather she dish out a tiny dose of the mouthy to people who are paid to be with her so that I can have a few extra daily doses of the sweet version. Is that wrong? Wait. Don't answer that. I don't like being wrong.
All-in-all, the super-adorable fetus confirmed that the kid is doing well and blah, blah, blah. She's a good kid. We knew that. She's smart. We knew that. She has her teacher fooled into thinking she isn't capable of talking back. We knew she would and that it's all a lie.
So far, so good with this whole school thing.
