Crap. I knew that when the boy started going to school, I’d have to start paying attention and stuff, but I wasn’t prepared for the amount of forms and paperwork I’d have to fill out. I mean, I knew that there would be forms, so the fact that the boy came home with forms to fill out wasn’t a surprise. I just don’t like filling out forms.

Also, I don’t know who creates these forms, but the spaces to write names and other information are so small, it’s impossible to write neatly in the spaces provided. I’m talking teeny-tiny spaces, like four or five dashes worth of space to write your entire home address. Plus, if your name has like two-dozen characters in it, as we have, then you’re screwed.

Seriously, Edward Tufte needs to hold a seminar on effectively envisioning information to the School Board. Despite my phobia of filling out forms, I buckled down and filled out the damned forms. I might be a lazy misanthrope, but I don’t want my kid’s school to know that. Yet.

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