It has been blissful
Pet Peeve #262: When M decides at 10:38 p.m. that he's going to read his personal email for the first time today and then ask me a shit-load of questions about everything in it. At 10:38 p.m. my brain has pretty much wound down for the night and is in the process of logging off. I do not want to start thinking again at 10:38 p.m. I want to go to bed.
I just got five questions in a row about an email from Zoe's piano teacher, including two queries that involved me explaining the nickname she calls her son (he's very literal) (M, not the piano teacher's son).
Last night it was in regards to a message from Zoe's teacher that went out to the whole class regarding a summer school program for kids at the community college. Despite my assurances that her entire summer has already been planned, scheduled and PAID FOR, we had to go through a whole thing where we looked at the program, looked at the dates for the program to determine conflicts, and discuss whether our daughter qualifies as "gifted." Then he wanted me to send an email to the teacher basically asking if our daughter is gifted, and then pouted when I told him he would have to send it himself. This entailed me walking him through how to log on to the school's message system (which he should know how to do himself by now since she's finishing her THIRD YEAR there). After he wrote his message, which was written completely M-style and not at all Amy-style (in other words, it had no f-bombs), he wanted to sign MY name to it. I refused. He pouted some more.
This, my friends, makes me want to try any of the remedies mentioned in my previous post. And possibly all at once.
I just got five questions in a row about an email from Zoe's piano teacher, including two queries that involved me explaining the nickname she calls her son (he's very literal) (M, not the piano teacher's son).
Last night it was in regards to a message from Zoe's teacher that went out to the whole class regarding a summer school program for kids at the community college. Despite my assurances that her entire summer has already been planned, scheduled and PAID FOR, we had to go through a whole thing where we looked at the program, looked at the dates for the program to determine conflicts, and discuss whether our daughter qualifies as "gifted." Then he wanted me to send an email to the teacher basically asking if our daughter is gifted, and then pouted when I told him he would have to send it himself. This entailed me walking him through how to log on to the school's message system (which he should know how to do himself by now since she's finishing her THIRD YEAR there). After he wrote his message, which was written completely M-style and not at all Amy-style (in other words, it had no f-bombs), he wanted to sign MY name to it. I refused. He pouted some more.
This, my friends, makes me want to try any of the remedies mentioned in my previous post. And possibly all at once.
posted by Amy at 10:47 PM
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