We drove to #2 Daughter’s prospective high school this morning for what we thought was an early appointment with the registrar to attempt to register #2 Daughter for the upcoming school year, which starts next week. It was unsuccessful. We are going back tomorrow when the registrar will hopefully show up for work which she didn’t do today.
We *did* get more paperwork to fill out, the student handbook and all manner of Very Important Information.
The new district has a uniform dress code policy. Khaki pants, white or black collared shirts (polo or button up), black, brown or white shoes (no heels), no fun socks, and only black, grey, khaki or green/gold sweaters (no hoodies).
This came as some surprise and the shock prompted some tears on the part of #2 Daughter who, like her mother, is a bit of a nonconformist. Once the tears passed, there was The Ranting.
“It’s like, that movie. Jump back. Kevin Bacon. Oh my god. Do they allow music at this school? Dancing? I bet there’s no dancing. And it’s like that movie with that guy in front of the bank yelling ‘Attica! Attica!'”
“It’s a school uniform. It’s not like you’re going to be rattling a tin cup across the prison bars, dear.”
“KHAKI PUTS BARS ACROSS YOUR HEART, MOM.”
And so it went, at length, for several hours. I took her out for French toast and we went on a quest for khaki. Which was somewhat fruitless, however going online I discovered that Lands End had a couple of pieces. I did get her several cute white and black blouses at H&M, all in uniform code. But I am stuck for where to find really super cute junior sized uniform appropriate khaki bottoms. Gap was a total strikeout. Kids sizes abound, but junior sizes, not so much.
Why not black? Or grey? Why khaki???
“I’m spending the next FOUR YEARS in KHAKI, mom. I might not make it to NYU. I might DIE OF KHAKI.”
“No one in the history of EVER has died of Khaki.”
“Well I’m a TREND SETTER. Actually? No. What I am is a khaki covered loser who will never get a boyfriend because why? Oh yeah. KHAKI”
“That’s okay dear. All the prospective boyfriends will be khaki covered losers too.”
That’s when she threw a sausage link at me and I decided I probably should stop talking. Unfortunately, because I was driving, I could not ask the waitress to pour a healthy slug of pre-khaki whiskey in my coffee. Shame.