B is for Bum

You know, you send your kid off to school quite sure that his teacher will be amazed — AMAZED — by his sweetness and brilliance. Oh yes, and you sit down in parent-teacher meetings to be sure that they understand him and is he being challenged enough because your Kindergartner is buzzing right through his word wallet and can read the books at home, thank you very much.

You send your kid off to school waiting for that letter home acknowledging his super, oh so “I’ve-never-met-a-kid-like-this-in-my-career” specialness.

And so you search through his backpack looking for that recognition, that little ego-boosting lift affirming that (a) your child is fantabulous and (b) nope, you haven’t screwed anything up.

So you search that backpack, looking for a token, a something, anything.

A little hint.

You know.

Because.

My. Kid. Is. Special.

And then you find this…

F is for “face-palm.”

And funny.

And something else.