Oh, I just remembered a time I was definitely the batshit parent. So, I was a secondary school teacher, and my students had made these lovely handmade cards in art class for Teacher Appreciation Day. They were being sold to raise money for charity—wholesome stuff. I thought, perfect! I’ll buy one for my son’s reception teacher. Look at me, supporting the arts and being thoughtful.
So I grab a card, all proud of myself, and hand it to my then-4-year-old as we’re getting out of the car, he drops it. No biggie, I think, scooping it up off the pavement.
We get to the classroom, hand the card over, and the teacher is all smiles. Lovely! Warm fuzzies all around. And then he turns the card over and goes, “Oh… what’s that?”
Yep. The card had landed face down in a pile of dog poo. And I, in my clueless glory, had picked it up, handed it over like a heartfelt gift. To top it off, the teacher goes, “Oh no… I put my finger in it.”
Thankfully, he took it like a champ—probably laughed about it in the staff room for weeks.