Paperwork. And lots of it.
This year is no exception. The teachers have again lobbed homework at the parents - giving us permission slips to sign, legal releases to initial and new rules to remember. And Bridget and I have three kids, which is like...cross out the two, carry the one...double the work.
I wouldn't mind except that Bridget expects me to help.
"Hypothetically speaking," Bridget said, "You're fifty percent of the parents in this house - not twenty-five percent of the kids."
"What's that supposed to mean?" I demanded.
"You're one of the parents..." she started.
I stopped her. "No, I meant "hypothetically". What does that mean?"
I was going to continue watching "Cheaters", but then I spied the questions on one of the colored papers we had to fill out for Riley's kindergarten teacher. It was one of those questionnaires where you describe your kid to her new teacher.
"What," it asked, "is one of your child's favorite things to do?"
I grabbed a pencil.
"Riley enjoys installing NOX in her Power Wheels Barbie Jeep, heading down to Daytona for the weekend and racing for pinks. I guess you could say that she lives life a quarter mile at a time."
I was starting to enjoy myself now.
"What is one of your child's least favorite things to do?"
Hmmm. "Power washing the house. She always cries about how the power washer is too big and it hurts her arms but I think when she looks at the clean house and driveway at the end of those eight hours, she probably feels the same pride I do."
Bridget took my pencil.