or his school wants to completely incapacitate me.
Tomorrow I have to get up at 2:45 a.m. in order to get him out of bed and up the street to board the bus at 3:15 to go to the airport to fly to Washington, DC, where he'll be taking part in the school's annual four-day patriotic gruelathon.
I thought the only people who had to do things like this were the parents of wee little ice-mice who are the bottom of the barrel when it comes time for assigning rink time at the local ice rink.
You may remember that Saturday morning 6:00 a.m. departure for the Music in the Parks competition followed by hours and hours at Six Flags Great America. This was a twelve-hour day, and as everyone knows, a day spent chaperoning the sixth grade boys, is a day without sunshine. Now for you, this might be only a link you won't click on, or perhaps a dim memory of a blog entry. But to me, this is Post Amusement Park Chaperonage Stress Syndrome material.
So I thought the school could do no worse.
But I was wrong.
Two-effing-forty-five in the ack emma, people!
I'm going to bed now.