Published on May 18th, 2014 | by Richard Black0
Pot Brownies, Yeast Infections and Other Topics Women Discuss at School
So as the world turns the wife and I have decided that Darcy will be attending a different preschool next year. To be honest there’s nothing inherently wrong with the school she currently attends. Her teachers have all been supportive and involved, there aren’t huge swamp rats running around int eh basement and no one on the staff has been arrested within recent memory.
Our decision to move Darcy was prompted a few months ago when my daughter came home and said that she had no one to play with. This trend continued for a few weeks and I can honestly say that there aren’t many phrases a three year old can say that twinge the heart like “I didn’t play with anyone Daddy”. “I’m saving myself for Kanye West might be one, “or Daddy my Leukemia hurts” would be another but Darcy seems to be free and clear of both of those diseases so I suppose I should count myself lucky.
It turns out that young girls start becoming cliquish pretty early these days. I’d always thought the bitchiness would begin around sixth grade but it turns out that I have been dreadfully misinformed. In addition to developing breasts and menstruating it turns out that girls these days just cant wait to get started on the nuances of puberty and that includes acting like a twatwaffle at an early age.
There are five girls in Darcy’s class. Two are neighbors, two have parents heavily involved in the PTO version of the school and that leaves Darcy the odd girl out.
In all fairness I bear some of the blame for my daughter’s predicament. When she started school a few years ago I did little to ingratiate myself the other children’s parents. I didn’t antagonize them mind you, I said “hello” to them in the hall and made some effort to remember their names but I had no interest in any of them even though I’m certain they’re all lovely people.
Dropping off and picking up Darcy was something I’d always thought of as a goal, something akin to patrolling in Vietnam. I get in, I get out and occasionally talk to the locals about the weather or the food or how many NVC are in the area. It turns out that I should have been more sociable or begun a scorched earth policy as I was talking with the enemy all along.
It seems as if the Viet Cong mothers have already bonded. They have play dates, they all live in the same area, will be sending their daughters to the same public schools and even get together every weekend to send their daughters to the same ballet class. Apparently it’s been going on for some time and while I can’t say that I’ve ever wanted to attend any function with these women, I would prefer to flay the skin off my taint than spend more than fifteen minutes with them, I’m remarkably irritated by the fact that my daughter has never been included.
The matter is complicated by the fact that the school Darcy attends is not in the district where she will be going to kindergarten; a detail I’m certain the other parents have noted and one that has played into their behavior. Still I’m to blame. Instead of scooping my daughter up from school and driving off like our home was on fire I should have been making idle chit chat and swapping recipes for pot brownies or the latest feminine products to hit the market.
And just when I thought I’d put the tortures of high school behind me…
The good news is that the change of scenery give both Darcy and I a fresh start. Darcy will have the opportunity to meet a few kids who will be joining her in kindergarten and I will pretend to be interested in vaginal births or yeast infections or whatever it is that women talk about when they drop off and pick up their children at school.
I really can’t wait.