It's official. It's back to school season. Want to know how I know?
A) The fact that I saw brown leaves falling from a tree today could be it, but it isn't.
B) Maybe that the school bus drivers are out learning their routes? Nope.
C) The annoying commercials on Hulu with the junior high kids wearing my fourth grade wardrobe as they dance around and claim to have the beat? Wrong again. They also claim to look sweet, but that's debatable.
D) Not even the endless paperwork associated with getting my kids ready or the kindergarten kickoffs and school park play dates are the real tipper-offer here.
No, the right answer would be. . . I'm having my routine nightmare. I'm in high school, in the front office, late for class, and I don't even know what my classes are. I can't find my schedule card. Or my locker. Or the person I'm supposed to talk to about getting a new one. I wander around, lost, and thinking I am going to fail high school because I don't even know what classes I'm in.
I hate this dream. Yet, I have it about 50 times a year and almost always during the school year.
This is how I know it is back to school time.