But Jesus Christ, there are mornings when the doo-doo ga-ga routine sets off a blistering rage inside me. I get consumed by images of slapping him in the head, mashing his face into his Froot Loops and calling the DSS on myself…

There was also a kid on the bus who’d started hitting him and Luke on the second and third days. Oh, good fucking gumdrops – a bully already? But no, just a spaz. Jack said he was small and weird looking with black “pebbles” stuck to his face. So, it was a little, ugly, moley bastard who was obviously an idiot as well. What kind of smaller kid stands over his seat on the bus to whack the heads of two bigger kids that he doesn’t know….

get to gym somewhere in all of that and stop being so freaking fat, etc. And worst of all, the dread of increased interactions with other parents, many of whom appear deeply convinced that of all the children in their brat’s class theirs is the only one with parents who have a kid in school. This became obvious during Jack’s orientation when one grimacing mom began pushing the tiny chairs away from the circle we were supposed sit in to hear school deets from Jack’s teacher. Needed additional room for her cellulite to throb, I’d say