I went to the local community center yesterday to sign my daughter up for a preschool program. A much-coveted spot had finally opened up and I was more than excited to take it. I had called in advance and they were expecting me. A young man of about 20 greeted me at the front desk, shook my hand and said, “You must be Miss Mary!” Um, alrighty… He showed me around and explained the procedures (yes on sunscreen-application assistance, no on butt-wiping assistance) and handed me some forms to fill out. While I was perusing said forms I heard the young man speaking. He was asking somebody a question about the center’s Teen Program. It took me a moment to realize that he was speaking to me. He was asking me if I might have any older children who would be interested in participating in the Teen Program. Pardon me? I finished filling out the forms and placed them gingerly on the counter (as opposed to gingerly up his ass) and hit the bricks.
Then I headed to the drugstore to pick up a box of Nice ‘N Easy with “100% gray coverage”. Mother of a teenager? In your dreams, punk.