Tuesday, December 9, 2014

Preschool Panic: Talk to Me


The preschool applications are done!  Finished.  Fin. Finito.

Personally I think we look good on paper. Sure, Rose looks like a withered, drooling prune in our family photo, but at least the rest of us look cute. Besides, who would be crazy enough to reject a kid who can rock a pair of suspenders? No one in their right mind, that's who.  

Now the waiting begins. Sometime in January or February we will find out which schools are interested in us and then we have to schedule interviews with the Heads of those schools. That's right, friends, we're only half way through this whole process. We've toured schools. We've applied to schools. We've filled out financial aid forms and yet we still have to pass muster with the big cheeses at these institutes of lower learning. It's never ending, I'm telling you. 

I'm actually really nervous about the interview portion of the preschool show.  I can write any amount of BS about how building popsicle stick castles is going to expand my kid's horizons, but talking to people face to face is not my strong suit.  I suppose I could throw back a cocktail or two to loosen up before we go in for the interview, but I suspect that it might not reflect too well on my family if I show up smelling like the bottom of a liquor bottle.

I guess I'll have to save my stress drinking until after our interviews.  

Look, I'm the text book case of a funny person: completely neurotic, socially inept, and a total train wreck. I can only hope that our first choice preschool hasn't filled their quota of those particular parental traits already.  Thankfully, I'm married to someone who is able to sell sand to a Bedouin, so I'm counting on Chris to make up for my lack of interpersonal communication skills.  If only I could get the questions beforehand I could write some pithy answers and have them memorized prior to our meet and greet, but I guess it wouldn't look too good if I cheated on the admissions interview, would it?

I just try to remind myself that the Muffin Man will be fine no matter where he ends up going to preschool.  Ultimately he's not really going to care whether he's eating paste at Temple Day School or the Neighborhood Coop; I'm just not sure my ego can handle being rejected by the hottest nursery school in town.

Plus I'm already planning on using all the connected Hollywood parents I meet through the PTA to further my career.  I've got to get something more for my $14,000 tuition than a few construction paper collages and a loaf or two of challah.  

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