My kids hate the start of the school year. This is completely understandable, of course. They’ve basically lounged around doing nothing for the past three months, so going back to a structured routine seems like unfair punishment. They whine and complain and act like they’re aging hippies suddenly forced to put on a suit and tie and go work for The Man instead of selling water pipes at Phish concerts. School just totally harshes their mellow.
To help ease their transition this year, I’ve decided to make our routine at home a little more school-like. A bit more rigid and educational, so maybe the kids won’t be too upset when their no rules, no responsibilities summer finally comes to an end.
Credit Image: Cast a Line on Flickr
So, my darling sons, here’s the special curriculum you’ll be following for the last week of vacation. Please do your best as I will definitely not be grading on a curve.
From now on, you will no longer sit and watch “Spongebob Squarepants” like drooling morons. Instead, you must grab a pencil and paper and write down 20 vocabulary words per episode. Anything describing a bodily function will not be accepted, but bonus points for finding a word that rhymes with “barnacle.”
How many women at the pool are wearing skirtinis? How many women are wearing bikinis? How many women who are wearing bikinis should really be wearing skirtinis? Also, based on the warm spots, what’s the percentage of kids who’ve just peed in the pool? (Accuracy counts. Must show your work.)
Unfortunately, we don’t have time to study the entire life cycle of a butterfly, but you can still experience nature’s curiosities by watching Morning Mommy transform into Date Night Mommy with the help of $300 in make-up and shiny clothing. Is that a cocoon mommy’s squeezing into? Of course not, nutjobs. It’s Spanx.
All lunches at home will now consist of mystery meat, rubbery carrots and undercooked rice in order to prepare your stomachs for the school cafeteria. Please note that any kid who comments that this menu is “actually better than the crap mommy’s been serving us all summer” and/or makes fun of my hairnet will be immediately asked to forfeit his expired lime Jell-O.
Since we don’t have a gymnasium and it’s too hot to play outside, your physical education classes will consist of mopping, sweeping and vacuuming our entire house. But to make it feel more like a “fun” P.E. experience, mommy is willing to lie on the couch and throw dodge balls at your heads.
(This class has been cut due to budget constraints.) (And also because I don’t want to scrape glitter off the hardwood.)
Finally, we’ll end our school day with some unsupervised running around at a playground. Specifically, a playground at the Tex-Mex restaurant that serves jumbo margaritas. Teaching might be a rewarding job, but as mommy now knows, it’s also a thirsty one.
After a week of following this strict lesson plan, I’m pretty sure my kids will show up to their classrooms on the first day ready and willing to learn.
Or at the very least—ready and willing to be away from their mother for seven hours a day.
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