02/21/2014 08:41 am ET Updated Apr 23, 2014

The 5 Stages of a 4th Grade School Project


Sam, what's going on with your big Biography project for school? I saw Taylor's mom at Target buying poster board and spray mount and she told me the whole thing's due in two days, which is weird considering you said it was pushed back a few weeks due to Mrs. Kho's bunion surgery. What's that? You were confused by the date? Because sometimes "March" and "April" sound the same? And you were planning on starting the three weeks of research the project requires right after you beat the Gorgon level on your video game today? Oh, my...


GOD, kid! I don't believe you! Do you know how important this project is? Do you? Because if you don't do a good job on this fourth grade project, you're going to get a bad grade. And just where does a bad grade lead? Not to the hallowed halls of Stanford University, friend. Nope. And not even to the hallowed halls of the freakin' DeVry Institute of Technology located in an Arkansas strip mall. You see, kid, if you get a bad grade on this project YOU'RE GOING TO GROW UP TO BECOME A MAGICIAN ON A CRUISE SHIP. Yeah, that stung a little, didn't it? Card tricks and the Norwalk virus: welcome to your future, sucker. Hope you brought your drinking problem. Although, maybe...


if we try really, really hard we can actually pull this off. It's just a poster and a two-page report, right? That's not too hard. That's doable. And I think I might actually have some poster board left over from when we picketed Dairy Queen for not adding soy Dilly bars to their menu. What's that? You have an idea? You think we should use 36-point type for the report? Because Jackson did his that way? Well, newsflash, Sam, Jackson's also had detention the past month for writing "EET ME" on the Science Room wall. Seriously, that genius isn't even going to get a courtesy interview with Carnival Cruise's maintenance crew, much less be allowed to do card tricks on the Lido deck. Anyway, just keep typing and maybe we can finish this before...


I get sent to the nursing home to die in my own filth. How the hell can you only be on the third paragraph? You've been sitting at my desk for three and a half hours. There's no way you're going to get this done in time. Especially when you think it's cool to make each letter a different color and you keep inserting pictures of bacon into a report about Steve Jobs. But you know what? I blame myself. I failed you as a mother, Sam. If I hadn't gotten us kicked out of the Baby Gym classes all those years ago for allegedly "mounting an insurrection against Miss Jilly and her puppet Mr. Jelly," you'd probably be finished by now. Yep, you'd probably be like Taylor who not only did her report in calligraphy, but did it on artisanal paper that she handcrafted out of her mother's dryer lint and tears. But then again...


Taylor is definitely the most tightly-wound 10-year-old I've ever met. You didn't hear it from me, but girlfriend's gonna need Botox for her stress lines by the time she hits middle school, know what I'm sayin'? But you, Sam? You are actually very well-adjusted. A total and complete natural disaster at any and all forms of time management, but still -- well-adjusted. Of course, the time management thing probably comes from your dad's side of the... what's that? You're done with the report? Seriously? Hey, that looks pretty good! Sure, we'll have to make some edits because not every sentence should end in an exclamation point and a smiley face unless you write for certain websites, but still. Good job, Sam! I'm so proud of you! In fact, I'm going to go have a glass of wine and put my feet up and what do you mean we still have to finish the...


motherf&*#ing poster?!

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