Call me an optimist. Or a sucker. It was an idealistic hope of ours that we could cleverly (passively?) avoid the rampant competition that comes with today’s brand of parenting for at least a few more years. We should have known when the first daycare we visited (with the organic lunches and 98% Ivy League placement) had a 7-month waiting list.
Other than that, we had hoped to sit out of the (rug) rat race for a while longer. Unfortunately, our naivete was revealed to us last week. Twice.
First, Kate was stopped by the neighbor during a dog walk. She surmised that it was more of a reconnaissance mission based on the tone of the neighbor’s bragging and the pointed, rapid-fire questions asked. He, the driver of the Porche, and his wife, the Land Rover pilot, have two kids who just love the local elementary school. It has a Spanish immersion program. We should probably sign up now if we want any hope of getting our kid a space. Also, we are invited to set out lawn chairs with the group of hip parents who regularly sun themselves while their kids all play with their expensive toys in the lawn around them.
Then we tried to sign Little Bug up for swim class. We were told that spring enrollment began at 9:00 AM on March 9. The fact that they gave us a specific time should have clued me in as to how crazy this all can get. Well, we missed that appointment, but it turns out that it wasn’t our turn, anyway. You see, the timeframe for NEW registrants is three days later. Silly Rookies. You know what? We can just fill up our bathtub and find baby swim lessons on YouTube.
Speaking of which, today’s gem: