Twatwaffle, Part One

If you are a sad, pathetic, frightened, ever-suspicious parent who fears all knowledge you don’t personally already know and believes any questioning of your long-held beliefs is sinful, that must be YOUR poor child sitting out in the hall reading a chapter book for children half his age while the rest of the class is smiling in rapturous awe at the antics of Harry Potter or Bilbo Baggins or Percy Jackson, comparing/contrasting plotlines with classical mythology, learning modern vocabulary by learning ancient terms, learning about the night sky by learning about Mt. Olympus and the gods and goddesses of old, and learning how to write proficiently by using literary devices. But I’m sure reading about Billy and Susie going to Grandmother’s house for Sunday dinner is pretty much enough. Twatwaffle.

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