You gotta score at least a 25 to take advanced finger painting

So sorry for the lack of something entertaining yesterday. I figured I’d probably tempted fate enough with my earlier quick-entry this week, a Puddintopia Pictorial Play I’m calling “Graven Consequences“. The Puddinette made what I consider the definitive comment on the thing, “That’s so funny…and so wrong.”

That, boys and girls, is exactly what we strive for around here daily.

Anyway, didn’t have time for pithy comments last night because I was trying to complete the synopsis for the Novel. I’m obviously a total novice when it comes to that sort of thing, so there were clearly a few false starts and re-writes. In the end, I think I ended up with something that’s not bad but probably needs a bit of tweaking.

Turns out that writing a novel is more about evolution than revolution.

I like that…I might have to reuse it.

I also got a full outline out of the assignment, which was badly needed and really helped me see how the characters want to act. So, a difficult but worthwhile task, definitely. Oh, and, yes, I realize that “the Novel’ is a little vague; I need to sit down and pick at least a working title, but I can’t really stand “A Man Alone”. That’s really just a reference to the first entry, which was intended to be random and standalone. Since it’s obviously not anymore, that just won’t do. For now, I’ll just keep call it that story about the coma guy where everyone’s dead.

In other news, my daughter took her Kindergarten Entrance Exam this week. Let me say that again, just in case you missed it: her Kindergarten Entrance Exam. Look, I know that school certainly isn’t the same nowadays as it was back in the Ice Age when I stepped into the big K for the first time. As I’ve said, kindergarten in my day included riding the Mickey Mouse bouncer ball and making butter in a Mason jar. If I came home with my shoes tied and without a black eye or snot on my face, I’m pretty sure everyone considered it a successful day.

Not anymore. Now they have sight words, basic math, and homework, yes, kindergarten homework. And it’s not like our kids are testing Harvard Kindergarten or Pre-Pre-Pre-MTI. No sir, in order to attend kindergarten classes at the local public school, where everyone has a right to an education, my daughter had to take an entrance test Wednesday night.

Now, of course, I realize that it’s not a true Entrance Exam. Obviously no one gets the tongue-click, the disappointed look, and the “not quite our kind of material” checkmark from the test assessor if they can’t pick out the circle from the box of squares.

Still, it’s damned stressful knowing that your five year-old daughter is back there, in the school library somewhere, filling a nice test lady’s ears with who-knows-what kind of babble about teddy bear parades, dolls that gotta pee-pee, and daddy wearing a tiara at Ms. Ducky’s Tuesday Tea Party.

Also, it would be nice if they sold some kind study guide for the “K-SATs” (yes, I just made that up); it’s never too early to start learning how to cram for standardized tests, you know.

     
 

Pud’n

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