Dad to the Princial’s Office


I got in trouble at school on Thursday.  I thought I was going to get sent to the principal’s office.  I deserved it though.  Didn’t do my homework correctly.

This is the story of my life, and I can’t figure out what’s wrong with me.  Why can’t I get this stuff right?

It started with the permission slips for Michelle’s fourth grade school trip to the beach.  There were several.  The problem was that you had to open the school newsletter, read the school newsletter, and then open Michelle’s teacher’s newsletter, at the bottom of the original newsletter, to find the link to find the forms to print them out to fill them out to send them back to school.  Once I had the link, I had to find the school website.  Once on the website, I had to open my personal excel spreadsheet that contains all of my passwords and user names so that I could indeed log in to find and print the forms.

Oh, my excel spreadsheet is password protected, by me (sneaky huh?).  If I ever forget the password to my password spreadsheet, I’m up “sheet” creek.

Michelle announced at dinner one night that she was the only kid in her class who had not turned in the forms and that they were overdue.  I wonder how that makes her feel?  Probably not too good.

“I didn’t see them in your Friday folder.”

“They weren’t in my Friday folder.  You have to print them out yourself, they’re on the school  website.”

I’m sure most parents have the login to their child’s school website memorized.  Mine is up there in the ole steel trap, along with my work login, my blog login, my personal email logins, DJ’s school’s login, my Orbitz and American Airlines logins, my Zappos logins, the login and password to stop my mail when we go on vacation and the login to two bank accounts and two investment accounts.  Not to mention my retirement account login, the HR login for work which is a separate software, the login info for the kids’ service club, the foul weather login for youth basketball in the winter, Facebook and Twitter and Instagram so I can make sure my kids aren’t posting inappropriate photos of themselves or cyber bullying.

So I got the paperwork turned in but forgot to have Michelle sign the behavior agreement form, which we had gone over, in detail, on our way home from dance one evening.  Apparently you did not have to sit or sleep with your trip “buddy” but you did have to know where they were at any given time.

When we arrived at school at 5:45 AM, I walked up to the school nurse to give her Michelle’s allergy pill.  I had already turned in the “official” typed up form that I easily found on the school website, well, once I got logged on.

“Hello nurse.  I have Michelle’s medicine right here.”  I was so proud of myself.  The pill was in a zip lock bag with the name of the medication, dosage, along with instructions for dispersing the pill and my signature.  I’d even written her name on the biggie with a black Sharpie marker.

“Mr. Tanner, can you read?” Nurse asked in a kind yet firm tone.

“Why yes.  In fact, I can write too!”

“It clearly stated on the medical form that you needed to have a doctor’s signature for any medication.”

“It’s over the counter.”  I had her!!!

“Signature for ALL medications, even over the counter.  It says so clearly on the form.”

“Geeze.  Even over the counter?”

“Yes.  And, the pill is supposed to be in the original container Mr. Tanner.”

“Not a zip lock bag?”


“But it has her name on it, with a black Sharpie PERMANENT marker.”  We aren’t talking Crayola here.

“No, Mr. Tanner.”


I should have just taped the pill to her chest.  It was tiny.  They would have thought it was a button.

From now on, I’m going to do better.  I’m going to read every word of every newsletter, web site, email and document from all schools, teachers, camps, church leaders, piano teachers, dance instructors, basketball coaches, Service Club leaders, theater personnel, doctors or nurses, afterschool counselors, singing group coordinators, friend’s moms and the Gap.  I’m going to have to quit my job, but I’m going to read them all.

Tea and Boots





Posted by Danny

I get a lot of emails.  I enjoy the ones from friends – making plans or sharing news.  And most of the ones at work are important enough to read.  But bulk emails from school, dance, church, sports teams, etc., etc. get me down. 

The volume of information coming at me is sometimes overwhelming.  There are so many things to read and each is so very…very long. 

I am amazed at how many sentences it takes to remind me to send money to school.  Don’t wish me a good day or tell me the kids’ activities for the week.  Just tell me what I need to do:  Bruce, Send $10 on Wednesday.  I will obey.

I don’t care what it’s for – the teacher can use it to buy a farm animal for her great-aunt.  No explanation needed.  Just get to the chase!  

DJ is in a a mother/daughter service club.  It’s a great organization that does incredible work throughout the community.  This group has a weekly email that gives the details for the upcoming activities – it is fairly short and to the point.  But recently the 9th grade class was responsible for putting on a tea.  And the reminder came out two days before the important event.

Email 1:  Details, details, details…and remember, you can’t wear boots to the tea.

Email 2 (from a mother responding to all):  You can wear boots to the tea.

Email 3 (from another mother responding to all):  No, you can’t wear boots.

Email 4 (you get the picture):  Yes – you can wear boots to the tea but they have to be dress boots.  You can’t wear Uggs or riding boots.

Email 5:  No – no boots. 

Email 6:  Anyone can wear boots but the 9th graders – they are hosting the tea and cannot wear boots.  And they aren’t allowed to eat.

Who hosts a party and doesn’t eat?

Email 7:  We talked about this for 15 minutes at the last meeting.  You can wear dress boots.

Email 8:  Attachment: The bylaws of the organization (I did not read them but there must be something in there about boots and teas).

I deleted Emails 9, 10 and 11 before reading them because I had to go pick up the kids. 

Fortunately, the boot situation was not an issue for us.  DJ has at least one pair of shoes that are not boots.  That must not be the case for some of the other girls.

My sister-in-law was taking DJ to the tea.  It took me 30 minutes to explain to her what shoes she could wear.  I made her come by our house before the event to ensure that she didn’t try to sneak in with a pair of rain boots (they weren’t specifically singled out).  I could see Aunt Sallie trying to push the envelope.  She wore heels.  I was relieved.

I actually understand the No Ugg policy.  My girls would wear them to a Nascar race or to the Royal wedding.  They have no Ugg filter.  These women are just trying to teach some manners – and lord knows I need help with that. 

But I was convinced with the first email…

Email 1:  No boots…

My response:  OK…

Apparently the party was grand, and they did get to eat – but just in the kitchen.  Probably a good idea.  I could see my girls sipping punch out of the ladle.

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