My five year old daughter had to sign a form today indicating she is aware that she is not allowed to bring weapons to school. At first I was all beaming because my daughter was one of the children who could actually write her own name and not have Will or me do it for her. But then my paternal pride turned immediately to community depression when I realized how sick it is that the school has to make it clear that schools are no place for weapons, as if that's not common knowledge. School. Like where my sweet baby girl will be going soon. My innocent child who covers her ears and shuts her eyes tight when someone raises their voice to another in a cartoon on The Cotton Candy Network. My little girl who goes over to kids she doesn't know at the playground and calmly and gently asks them if they're ok when they fall off the equipment.
Is kindergarten going to turn her sweet soul into a jaded, world weary disappointed rambling nut? Like her mother? Can't she stay sweet and innocent and blissfully ignorant to the hard world a little longer?
It's time to call in a refill for my clonazepam.