Having a kid in preschool will turn you into a germaphobe. Whenever you drop them off or pick them up, every kid is rubbing snot from their nose or hacking violently or drooling on a toy. The snot and saliva-covered blocks passing from one mouth to the next are particularly tough to watch.
Spring seems to be the worst time of year for it. The class looks more like a ward for sick children than a place of lower education. When
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Maybe it was the tequila talking. No, I’m sure it was the tequila talking.
“Let’s all go bowling and get matching shirts! Come on, it’ll be so much fuuuun,” I screamed at my friends, practically jumping up and down in my coveted seat at the bar in the overcrowded Mexican joint that was hosting our kids’ school fundraiser.
Spinning around to face the bartender, with whom I was now on a first name basis, I continued on my
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