As he slammed down the stairs from my loft I followed him with, “You can’t always get what you want, Loren. But you can try real hard.” And with that the Stones fired to life in my head and I was back in college when I saw them at Arrowhead stadium and was in the arms of a surfer boy who had ample amounts of beer stowed at his feet and big plans for me and the rest of the night.
Fuck. I rarely have put my foot down with my first born and uttered the evil word, N-O. But I have simply had enough. I don’t want to spend $500 or more on summer school just because he couldn’t put up with his Spanish teacher, although she was decidedly awful and I didn’t like her either, and he will also fail biology this semester. I am a preschool teacher and I make shit for pay. And what little pay I do make? I sure as hell don’t want to spend it on summer school. I paid his first eight years of schooling at a private school and it was harsh. Now he should gracefully suck it up and just take the classes and pass them. Is it really too much to ask? In his mind it seems to be so.If they could only stay four years-old and cute like puppies….
