Please stop breaking the mother effing curve.
Maybe you're a naturally crafty person, or a good baker, or have a way with small children. Maybe you naturally wake up at 4 a.m. and need as many projects as possible to fill the time before your offspring awakes.
The fact is, I am none of those things. I am the person sitting in her car waiting for curbside drop off who mutters "Oh f*ck" when she sees you traipse into the building with an armful of cheerily decorated gifts, one for ALL of the school staff.
I am the person who sent ice cream cups for her son's birthday, while you hand delivered homemade cookies iced with a perfect likeness of Abby Kadabby or something...
I am the one who turned in her son's first homework assignment (in other words, her first homework assignment) late.
You turn in "getting to know you" photo posters decorated with all scrapbook paraphanalia available, and dot your caligraphered "i"s with little hearts. I present crookedly cut out snap shots with little cylinders of tape holding them onto the poster board.
Please stop sending your daughter with a perfect Cinderella bouffant (complete with little jewel broach) on Story Time Day, because I forgot about it until 8 p.m. the night before and stapled a paper "mouse tail" to the ass of my son's brown sweatpants.
I'm sure you enjoy doing all of this and it's not difficult or a strain for you, however, I'm not particularly cut out for doing stuff like this and my threshold for youth outside of my own bloodlines stops with the 13th grade. Teaching community college was dealing with the youngest people I could stomach. I am not a natural young child instructor.
If you stop, then the teachers won't notice I never started, mmk?
Also, if you cease and desist with the birthday party invitations for the whole class involving individually applied hand glued sequins and party details hidden in cleverly worded little poems, then I promise to stop contemplating slashing your tires.
The short one that owns the tire swing barfer.