Every day when Aitch comes home from school, I ask him, “What did you do today? What did you learn? Tell me about the kids in your class.” I’m very eager to learn how he’s spending his days. Unfortunately, I’m treated to nothing so comprehensive as a narrative. Instead, he releases little tidbits of information in staccato bursts.

What I’ve learned:

Item: The teaching assistant is named “Mrs. Potkettle.”

What?

You know, “Potkettle.” Like when you have to take a horse to the doctor.

What?!

Item: In gym class, they have learned a little butt-shaking dance where they get down and shout, “Education!” Then the teacher yells, “Wishloobeckya” and they have to run to the other end of the room.

What?

Item: Aitch sits at the peanut-free table with a boy from his class and some other peanut-allergic kids. I can only imagine that they will form a tight-knit social group and grow up to intermarry and produce a race of super-allergic, bubble-dwelling children.

Port City Supernintendo, I implore you — can’t we make the whole school peanut-free so my kid can sit with his more genetically-advantaged peers at lunch? Let’s give Darwin’s Law a chance to work.

And…that’s all I’ve got. I guess I’ll have to wait for the parent-teacher conference to get the real scoop.