File this under I'm Not Qualified to Mother Today:
Alarm went off at 7 am (after an initial ringing at 4 am when the mister got up to get ready for his 6:30 am flight.) Get dressed, get Will his breakfast. Pack his backpack. Go off to try and find the school campus where he'll be attending summer school this year. Drive to said school, which is almost clear across town, with the little orange "Bitch, you're almost out of gas" light on. Hope we're not too late.
See busses. Great. Park in front of school. Suspiciously quiet. Go to front office. See my neighbor. Say hi. Smile. Discover that summer school doesn't start until tomorrow. Turn three shades of red. Smile wanly. Joke that I'm not going to mention our names so they won't know who the dork-o mother is who couldn't remember the summer school start date. Glad that my other friend who works in this school office isn't around at the moment. Try to get out of there with some semblance of a dignified air about me.
On ride home, "Don't You Want Me, Baby?" comes on the radio. Will sings along with every word, especially loudly on the "I was working as a waitress in a cocktail bar" part. (He also has re-written the lyrics to "The Lion Sleeps Tonight"... in his version, it takes place in "the mommy jungle" instead of "the mighty jungle.")
It's on days like these that I'm glad we're not required to have licenses to parent.
Because mine would surely be revoked.