Really, come on down. It’s Little House on the Prairie up in here. Without the polite kids.
It is important that you understand that there are environments over which you have no control. NONE! The lowlands of Afghanistan, for instance, and my classroom rug. Both are said to reek of a county fair livestock barn. And don’t get me started on the chicken factor. Things have definitely hatched here. They incubated behind the microwave that doesn’t exist in my closet. Soon there will be a zombie chicken invasion. With the attendant lice on board.
Stuff is mutating at an alarming rate. The reality is that, if you are going to allow your kid to be within a three mile radius of a classroom carpet, you are going to want some vaccination happening. You really just can’t plan on controlling this shit. You might also want to heed the teacher’s request to donate hand sanitizer to the class. Your kid looks way dirtier when there are twenty-three peers drooling nearby.
The spilled milk factor alone calls for a haz-mat team. But this is an urban school, so haz-mat consists of a milling group of 8-year-olds, trying to sop up moisture with the least absorbent paper towels known to man: The Brown Paper Towel. Why do you think that a roll of these is 2.7 miles long? Because they soak up virtually nothing. Not cow’s milk, not goat’s milk, sure as hell not any cereal stirred up with a spork and combined with the milk or any goat, cow, or ox that you have your hands on. I would wager that clinical studies have been conducted (possibly at my own workplace) to determine the Brown Paper Towel’s effectiveness upon the spilled margarita. You could compose invites for a hipster dinner party on this paper, knot it up with some twine, and head on down to the brewery for some crafty goodness. Stop by the clinic, would you, and make sure your boosters are up to date?
Or, you could just take your chances, and become a disturbing and disturbed carrier like me! We can donate our bodies to science! It will be cool!