Thank you for your many letters, notes, emails and texts over the last few weeks. Since I have two children, I get all of this stuff twice. And since one of my children is starting a new school, there’s a whole heap of stuff from that direction too. I know it’s good to talk, but do you really have to talk so much?
Since you have been chasing my time, cash, presence and cake-making ability, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but I don’t have an abundance of any of those.
But still, what fun it was to be making fairy cakes at 11pm after a hard day at work. And then to see the PTA ubermum abandon them under a table at the class picnic. How glad I was to have put in the effort.
Really, who doesn’t enjoy a morning that starts with a child wailing I need a costume just as you’re going out the door? And all those nights of working until the wee small hours because the afternoon was cut short by your insistence that we turn up at 2pm for an open day/class assembly/celebration of Best Class Fart.
I know teachers get tired by the end of term, but why so keen to inflict it on the parents too? At least you get a rest from our kids, we’ve got them for the whole of the summer. Yes I realise I could ignore the letters, not turn up to the events and pretend I didn’t know I was supposed to bring the cakes. But then I would feel like crap, and I prefer not to feel like crap if I can help it.
I appreciate all you’ve done, I honestly do, but if a man was to display this level of demands I would dump him, change my phone number and report him to the police for stalking. Don’t make me do that to you.
Yours in end of term exhaustion,
image: Flickr user kennymatic