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Dadfector

FUCK YEAH! IT’S THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!

Schoolchilden queueing in pairs to get on the school bus, circa 1960. (Photo by L. Willinger/FPG/Hulton Archive/Getty Images)
L. Willinger/FPG/Hulton Archive/Getty Images

Holy shit! It’s here! It’s finally here! The first day of school! SOMEONE PINCH ME ON THE ASS SO I KNOW IT’S REAL!

Eighteen months. Eighteen long, brutal, agonizing months I have waited for this day. Daydreamed about it. Rhapsodized over it in sonnets that I will not share with anyone else. God, pandemics are so fucking boring. You sit there with your kids, trying to get the internet to work for e-school, then you finally get them into the Zoom call, and then they come downstairs again to complain that the call is still laggy, and it’s only 9:05 a.m. Only six more hours to go in the day! JESUS. And our reward for all that virtual learning was a summer with a dew point of 9,000, where everything outside sticks to everything else. This weather can chew on my frayed asshole. I’m as excited for real school to start as my children are, and they really are excited this time around. I feel reborn. I feel like I could lift a thousand pounds over my head. SHIT YEAH!

Are you all packed up for school, my little ones? Well, TAKE YOUR TIME. I haven’t helped you pack up for the bus since winter of 2020. Holy Christ, we really lived through that. Wear whatever you want, man. You wanna wear Guess jeans and a hypercolor shirt? That’s fine by me. You fucking earned it.

Here’s your lunch. I spent an hour making it using only the finest organic ingredients, a lunch that you’ve already told me you want instead of the school lunch, which consists of pizza made from prison bread and horse milk cheese. You are children of wealth and taste now, and I respect it. IT’S THE FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL AND EVEN MY SCHOOL DISTRICT’S GREATER SHORTCOMINGS WON’T RUIN IT.

Get on your shoes! Do you have all your supplies? [sniffs] Ooh, new pencils! That brings me back. School still smells like school, you know? Gimme all your highlighters so that I can sniff them and get high off the idea of you getting to be young again. At last, the day is OURS. All ours. BOOSH.