Private Schmivate

I really like the moms of Patrick's daycare/preschool classmates. They are all so fancy with their real careers, cleaning people and expensive professional attire. Sometimes I feel like a frumpy, suburban shut-in when I'm around them, but generally I do okay.

Anyway, one of these superwomen organizes a night out once a month where we go to dinner (without kids), have some wine and talk. Recently the discussion has turned to where our kids will be going to kindergarten. Whenever I am posed the question "Have you thought about Spanish immersion or private schools for Patrick?" I usually answer haughtily with something like, "Well, our neighborhood school is one of the best in the state, so I think we'll stick with that one." What a snot I am. But more so, what a cheap ass. Lord knows I'm not paying for private school! Matt and I went to public school and turned out JUST FINE, relatively speaking.

Anyway, as Patrick approaches five I've stayed strong in my public school convictions. Just today I was spouting off to my aunt in Tennessee about how thrilled I am that Patrick will be going to his neighborhood school. As I hung up the phone and hopped onto Facebook I saw that my friend Lisa posted a photo of an elementary school marquee. Patrick's highly-esteemed and top-ranked elementary school, as it happens.


Excellent. Maybe at the next get-together I'll be asking for the name of the admissions contact at that immersion school . . .



*Matt and I both got a good laugh out of this prank. It's one where if Patrick ever did something like that in his teenage years we would have to act disappointed and upset, but behind closed doors would be high-fiving each other over what an awesomely hilarious and clever kid we had raised.