It's a RETRO-POST! February 2012: Don't Poke the Momma Bear.

I am starting to think that I should have a frank talk with the woman in the office at Phoenix's school.

We try to be on time, we really do, and most of the time we are, although I usually get there with seconds to spare, fruity pebble coated children and nursing the after effects of the daily stroke that it took to get us there.

"It would make my life go a helluvalot smoother if you just laminated up a permanent, willy wonka style late pass and just write our info in when you start a new sheet for the day. I mean, chances are we are gonna be late anyway, lets stop playing coy and just make this shit official. "

Either that, or start a mom fight club that meets at 830.

Fuck it, 840, but tell me 830, I would probably be late to an 830.

Then I can get out all of the morning frustration it took for me to get the first kid to school all "is that all you got?" *spits out a tooth* style and I can move on with my day.

Oh and on the fight club note, someone revved their engine while I was crossing the crosswalk with the stroller to go into the school and I turned around and said, "Are you fucking kidding me, buddy?"

Sure, the line of parents who were behind me probably didn't appreciate all the expletives (hey, we will have a car soon and you won't hear them anymore), but in my defense it's probably not the smartest idea to poke momma bear on her jog to hell in the am.

I didn't have time to eat breakfast either buddy, so I would have made a snack out of you if I wasn't already late.

And if I had my laminated late pass, I would have had time to teach him some manners, see? Free teaching. I so deserve that pass.