“Tardy? Absence? Call the FBI.”

Let me just go ahead and say it: if one more school administrator side-eyes my kid for being 6 minutes late like he just committed a felony, I will lose what’s left of my barely functioning, caffeine-fueled sanity.

You know what’s really fun at 7:48 AM? Watching your child skulk into school like he just robbed a bank because he's "tardy." Not late. Not delayed. TARDY. The word alone sounds like something a medieval knight would yell before launching a catapult. “I DECLARE THEE... TARDY!”

But guess what? We live in the real world. A world of traffic, uncharged phones for alarms, lost shoes, breakfast meltdowns, and oh yeah—a bus system held together by duct tape and broken promises. Also how is this blamed on the kids when the parents are the ones who drive!

So, to the school that is threating to give my kid lunch detention for being late—do you want me to send you my traffic report too? Should I email you the Google Maps screenshot of the road into the school that resembled a parking lot from hell? Or maybe the video of the school drop-off line, which I swear is secretly a social experiment on how many parents wont just pull the fuck up!

You want to track tardies? Cool. Can we also track why there’s no traffic control but there is a cop drinking a coffee on the corner who could assit in the mess thats the entrance to the school or why the buses randomly vanish like cursed spirits, or why morning drop-off looks like the purge minus the masks? The only hope is the one school saftey officer that is found running all around trying to navigate this mess.

Do teachers get lunch detention when they’re late? Does the principal get a sternly worded note home when she’s out for “professional development” (a.k.a. wine and powerpoints)?I’m just asking for... consistency.

Also, why are we acting like missing a day of school is the academic apocalypse? One sick day and suddenly you’re being treated like you dropped out and joined a traveling circus. Meanwhile, the kid was home with a fever and a stomach that sounded like a dying goat—but yes, please, tell me more about the “important math lesson” he missed while projectile vomiting into a trash can.

Here’s a wild idea: how about we stop punishing families for having the audacity to be human? Instead of shaming kids at the door like they just snuck into the VIP section at Coachella, maybe greet them with kindness. A smile. A “hey, glad you made it.”

Because trust me, if we could teleport them to school like the goddamn Jetsons, we would.

Until then, we’ll be navigating chaos, caffeine, traffic, bus cancellations, and the occasional half-eaten granola bar stuck to a backpack. And we’ll get there. We always do. Even if it’s a few minutes late.

And you know what?

They’re still learning. They’re still amazing. They all have great grades. And they’re definitely not criminals.