What an awesome fun time we had last night. Franny’s new teacher came over and had dinner with us. I say “new” because her school is flexible enough to transfer students mid-year, and it’s dependent on their ability and readiness rather than an arbitrary age cut off, which is what we were facing with public school. So Franny just transferred in January. Perhaps you remember that I was flipping out at the notion of her essentially repeating kindergarten this year.

We decided to get her teacher loaded so she would tell us teacher secrets, like where the Ark of the Covenant is, but instead she drank very slooowly like a good citizen. We did not find out this secret, but she did threaten to teach us how to find cube roots on paper. My counter-offer was to find the bottom of a plate of cake, which was a good distraction. Math avoided! It’s pretty fun being around people who are excited to the point about being evangelical about something like learning, though. I feel good about sending my kid there every day.

As an aside, Franny asked me to color her hair pink on Thursday night. I was completely ready to see my ex’s head on a pike when he took her to get her teal hair bleached out for a wedding, but now that she has bleached tips still, they take color really well! I still say that I would rather she never went through the trauma of having bleach burns and sores at four, but I am making lemonade, as they say.

So Franny’s hair looked totally beautiful on Friday, but some of the boys at school were rumbling about it and making her feel weird about it. Which is totally wack, because she’s had orange tips for most of the year. Franny’s teacher has decided to get pink streaks in solidarity. I hope this will make Franny feel a little better about this choice. Or she may decide to stop dying her hair for now. I kind of hope not, though, because the pink looks so nice on her.

Franny’s teacher mentioned more than once that she thought that because of the way I am I’d be good as a teacher in the program and tried to convince me to take teacher training. I’d probably be really into the theory, because I’m a theory junkie, but I think being in the classroom would be a different story. After about a week or so, I’d realize that I had a child army, and I’d make them carry me around on a litter. And then we could go to loot grocery stores. No one would learn anything, except that I suck.

But now I have a nice acquaintance who is also a recovering Midwesterner and is turning thirty the same month I will. I invited her to be part of my Annual Birthday Week and she accepted. And she is coming to yoga with me on Sunday, because she’s been looking for a studio.

So Franny wins, and I win, and the Nazis still don’t know where the Ark is.