It's true what they say. Once the video stops rolling and the cameras turn off, the world is a cruel place. Just ask Lindsay. Or Lumpyhead. Away from the glare of the digital flash, Lumpyhead experienced kindergarten this morning – the non-sanitized version.
I'd been warned that Day 2 was worse than Day 1. On Day 1, the PTA Ladies who lined the parking lots and directed traffic were a friendly presence. On Day 2 they were a menacing horde with one goal: Rip My Boy from His Mother's Loving Arms.
Oh, don't bother to respond, PTA Lady. You with your sympathetic "I've been there" eyes and your gentle "It will be okay" smile. You cruelly forced me to get back in my car after a quick hug – maybe two – oh, and a little kiss – and send my five-year-old to walk that fifteen feet to the school door ALL BY HIMSELF.
Don't think I missed that fleeting expression of doubt on my son's face. I saw it. I'm his mother, and I notice these things. That momentary uncertainty was the last thing I witnessed before I pulled away.
Rest assured, PTA Lady, that if I could have identified you through my veil of suppressed gaspy sobs, you would be SWIFTLY AND SOUNDLY SHUNNED the next time we meet. You have escaped my wrath, for now, and must earn my future condemnation through direct insults or misdeeds (on at least two occasions, because that first time I'll probably chalk it up to you having a bad day). But if that happens, you will SUFFER MY MALEVOLENT RAGE, most likely in the form of a carefully worded and subtly sarcastic email, in which my righteous anger and indignation will be apparent only to me.
Oh, I will have my revenge, PTA Lady. You and your kind are hereby put on notice. How dare you?
-Lumpyhead's Mom
P.S. I do not want to join your group. But I probably will.
3 comments:
PTA bitches. I know the type.
Your plan to join is sound; subvert from within!
Every year I wrestle with the PTA. Really, I fill a big pit with mud and raise money for R.I.F.
Don't you guys have buses so the torture of having your baby torn from your arms can be confined to the privacy of your own driveway?
The bus driver never gives us a knowing look. He's too weary.
PS PTA moms don't do sarcasm, so you don't have to worry about your e-mail being understood or having someone respond kindly, or making any friends.
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