So I got a call the other day. For anyone who knows me, I rarely answer my telephone. Bill collectors, salespeople, and other nuisances make it virtually impossible. Anyone who understands this position is a big fan of voicemail. I use it, everyone else should too. And for the short, informational shit, I appreciate a text message as much as the next person. Basically, I hate the phone. But anyway, this call.
It was Duluth Edison Charter School, where my oldest daughter will be going next fall. The sweet woman left a message about taking a placement test of some sort. Except at the time I listened to the message, I was cooking supper, watching two toddlers, and revelling in the sale of my second manuscript. In my helpless wasteland of a brain, I processed it as my oldest son's school. I informed him that he would have to go Friday to take a placement test. He was not thrilled, but not disgruntled, either, since it wasn't until late morning. He merely took five bucks and went and hopped on the bus.
An hour later, his guidance counselor, Andy, called me. Seems they had no clue what test Eli was there to take. I had no clue either. Until I called the number that the phone call had come from only to discover it was a completely different school. WHOOPS! MY BAD! Andy must think I am a total flake, since I can't keep track of who is doing what where.
I think Eli was tickled to have 5 bucks and the rest of the day with no chores. I wonder how Casey will place, since she is at Adventure Zone with her school patrol for the time this test is being administered. Can anyone say FLAKEY MAMA?!?
This rarely happens, but when it does, I feel like a boob. Sorry kids, Mommy's on crack again.
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