(Obviously, I didn't take any pictures last night.)
Last night was Spencer's band concert. We were 5 minutes late. If you know me, you'll know that to me, 10 minutes early is five minutes late. This time, we were actually 5 minutes late. Normally, that would cause me enormous stress and anxiety.
But, this was a jr. high band concert.
I can't imagine the thought process that leads a person to be a jr. high band teacher. No way did they go to career day and say, "I think I'll teach a bunch of 12 year-olds to play the clarinet. I'd like nothing more than to listen to pre-pubescent kids squeak and squawk through 'Go Tell Aunt Rhody'."
I'm guessing they have some angelic, saint-like gene in their makeup. . They clearly love music. And kids. Somehow, those two emotions combine to create the patience of Mother Teresa. Or maybe they're partially deaf.
Last night was a music festival. Bands from four different schools converged on one gymnasium to perform. It was magical. (I can't even type that with a straight face.)
Because we were uber late, we sat out in the hall. This was ok with me, because those gym bleachers have no back rest. We found a partially padded bench and
That doesn't prove I'm not terrible.
It just means I'll have lots of company in Bad Parent Hell.