And it wasn’t the obvious things like 1) I bring (allergen free) treats even when the memo says not to (I swear that memo was sent home the day Fluffy was out sick.  I wish they used email.) or 2) my kid said your kid has “crunched up eyes” (I’m on it.).

You know how when you go to pick up your kid from preschool, the other moms who know each other are chatting in a gaggle outside the door, but you’re new, and you don’t really know anyone, so you just quietly collect your daughter and leave?  And then it turns out that that chatty gaggle was actually an informal line, and all those times you were quietly collecting your daughter you were actually cutting that line?  And how you don’t figure that out till half way through the school year?  You know?  Yeah.  How embarassing for you.

I’m sorry, Mamas.  I swear I’m not really that word you must be calling me.  I’m just of the species homo moronicus.  I’ve always been this way.  It wasn’t until my senior year that I realized I was the only one who darted out of the bus first, no matter where I was sitting, while the rest of the kids then exited row by row like on an airplane.  I guess I didn’t have to say “like on an airplane”.  I could have said “like on a school bus” and every person on earth except high-school me would have known what I meant.  Fortunately, I didn’t take the bus that often, but still.  [Kent reading this:  "The bus thing, seriously?"  Seriously.]

I have got to learn to have more rational expectations instead of just assuming I’m the only genius who sees that empty parking spot, which of course, turns out to be a motorcycle.

Oh well, there’s always Kindergarten.