1. I look at how stained my sink becomes from all the Diet Coke and coffee rinsed out of cups into it, and I think, "Ick, imagine what my insides must look like."
2. Speaking of insides, Eldest lucked out by having a classmate with a father whose job gave him access to what most 11-year-old boys would appreciate: brains. Yes, brains. The lad's father brought in a human brain to show his son's class Thursday.
3. That would be "a real, live human brain, Mom," my son informed me. "Well, it used to be alive, but it's dead now."
4. Sure, we have to sign off on letting our fifth graders take "Family Life," but bring in any old brain or body part you want, and we don't find out until after the fact.
5. Want further evidence that I'm a horrible person? There's a kid in the other afternoon kindergarten class who is clearly troubled. He is the worst of the worst. I've instituted a saying to justify Youngest's behavior and any other child who acts up. "At least he's not Riley."
6. There must be at least a dozen requests for first grade that say, "I don't care where you put my child...as long as he's not in the same class as Riley."
7. I did not make such a request. I just asked that Youngest be placed in a classroom with one of his two best buddies from kindergarten. I specifically requested a teacher whom I know one of his buds will be placed in.
8. I'll tell you a secret, though: I'm 98% sure that the teacher I requested for Youngest will not have Riley.
9. There is another, older, more strict, more rigid, though still first-grade-grandmotherly-like, teacher who is a shoo-in to get Riley.
10. I told you I was a horrible person, didn't I? At least I'll admit it, outwardly sheepishly and inwardly quite accepting of it. I guess that makes me even more horrible. So be it.