You’d think with all my organizing, I would be frustrated with the end of the school year when bags of random schoolwork come home with half-used notebooks, that took me three stores to find the correct size, random papers on subjects like rainbows and puppies and aliens, and glue sticks whose mere existence is a mockery of sticky things everywhere.
But I’m not because I find gems like this:
The child does not mince words. It reminds me of the most terrifying prayer I know:
“Please let people treat me tomorrow as I have treated them today.”
Shivers and sighs. I’m already off to a tough start with some impatience and pride. Here’s to hoping I remember what’s important for the rest of the day.