It has begun.
The filling out of the school forms, I mean.
Two giant packets hit our mailbox within the last two weeks. One for Bunny, one for Wallie. I meant to take them with me on the plane to BlogHer, but I forgot, so when I realized in a panic—during one my busiest work weeks ever—that one was due this Friday I asked J. to take on the tedious task of filling out the forms. He agreed.
Last night I settled in for a night of watching Rock of Love and J. settled in for a date with some emergency contact forms...
"Whose our pediatrician?"
"What's our pediatric dentist's name?"
"When did Wallie begin potty-training?"
"Is she allergic to anything?"
"How do you spell penicillin?"
"What's her classroom's name?"
"Did you know she can only bring vegetarian food to school?"
Mmmm. Hmmmmmmmm. That's right, ladies. You understand.
But I'm not complaining. He did it. And that makes me completely giddy with glee. Now I just have to get the medical form to the pediatrician, have her fill it out, then remember to pick it up before Friday. Oh, and dig up the immunization card and get that xeroxed.
We live in Silicon Valley. Why hasn't anyone started MySchoolForms dot com? Maybe I'll submit that at TechCrunch 20.
Also, I love how schools hit you up now for the parent council fee and the teacher appreciation gift fee and the school site fee and the just cuz fee...In our packet the papers explaining these fees were in 10-point font and had accompanying spreadsheets. My mind is a blur. I just scrawled a note across the forms saying I'll read them sometime before school starts and get back to them. I'm not so good with the numbers. And there's other stuff that's taking financial precedence right now. Like (screw the iPhone) me needing a Crackberry Curve.
I'm also wondering how I'll pick Wallie up at 11:45 and then be across town to pick up Bunny at noon when Wallie, who takes her own sweet time with her footsteps, could easily take 20 minutes walking back to the car, and that's not even counting a fall-down-screaming-don't-try-to-rush-me tantrum or two.
I can't wait for fall.