To be honest, I didn’t think that this would even be an issue. I was under the impression that Lizzie loved spending her Saturdays watching college football and grabbing me beers while I grill. It’s kind of become our tradition. So yeah, you could say I was a bit blindsided when she came home the other day and wouldn’t shut up about majoring in dance therapy at Sarah Lawrence. How did she even hear about Sarah Lawrence? This is all Ms. Rhode’s fault, I just know it. Lizzie spends one afternoon ribbon dancing at that new age hippie daycare and she’s halfway to voting for Jill Stein.
Look, it’s not like we didn’t have a plan for college. We figure that we can put her through undergrad easy, especially if she stays local and lives at home for the first two years; maybe finds herself an on-campus job, pitches in for books. But come on, Sarah Lawrence… dance therapy… are you fucking kidding me?! Lizzie can’t even ride a bike without training wheels, now she’s planning on solving people’s problems with what, the fucking macarena? Get real.
One thing’s for goddamn sure, after she graduates, she’s on her own. No rent money, no care packages, and certainly no “coming home for a few months to figure things out”. She’s got four years to figure out why this is such a terrible idea. This gravy train has dolloped its last potato.
I put aside some dreams in order to build this beautiful life that she seems so intent on leaving behind for some bullshit East Coast experience. Frankly, I’m just a tad insulted at how much she takes for granted. Even if she’s only four.
Anyways, your donations for our daughter’s liberal elite private school are much appreciated.