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“I do so like Green eggs and ham! Thank you! Thank you, Sam-I-am.” He closed the book and looked at Grant, who was sitting on his lap. “Alright, time for bed. Big day tomorrow, gotta get some sleep?”
As he walked over to his bed, Grant said, “Oh what do we have to do tomorrow?”
The same shit as always son, I lied, normal day tomorrow.
“Ohh…you know, big day at school! Or something like that. Idk, here let me tuck you in. I love you, get some rest.”
He walked out of the room as Grant said, “I love you too.” His heart warmed and mind relieved that he was done parenting for the night, he headed downstairs and flipped open his laptop.
He’d had something weighing on his mind for the past few hours since one of his friends had innocently asked over text “does Grant go to kindergarten next year?” He didn’t until the year after, but that text was enough to get his father’s mind spinning a bit.
His goal from the moment he was welcomed into parenthood was “Don’t let Grant turn into a piece of shit,” and part of that involved the kid getting a decent education. He watched enough MSNBC and read enough news to at least know that public education wasn’t exactly killing it at the moment. Grant’s preschool was great, but he was one year away from being out in the jungle of primary education, and the right schooling meant the difference between being a rocket scientist and stocking shelves at a 7/11.
Problem is, as his screen lit up, he knew his current rental home wasn’t in the best school district. Not bad, but would it get him closer to rocket scientist or 7/11 cashier? It was time to do some looki-
“Daddy! I’ve gotta go potty!” wailed a very not tired sounding voice from upstairs.
Then why’d you stare at the toilet like it was a fucking ghoul and not do anything before we brushed your teeth?
“Alright, I’ll meet you in the bathroom!”
A few minutes later, after wiping some of Grant’s errant piss off the seat and getting him back in bed, he was back at the computer, staring at school district ratings.
He started poking around a few websites grading out local elementary schools. Greatschools.org seemed legit enough. After he plugged in his address, a few green bubbles flew up around his pin drop.
Well, we’re currently in a 6.6 out of 10? Shit, I hope so. 6 isn’t that bad, right? Might not be a rocket scientist, but maybe like a manager at an Enterprise, or maybe be smart enough to ride the coattails of a rich friend. 6 is decent, but what about that 8 over there? That 8 is looking fire…
He was yanked out of his deep train of thought by the not tired voice yelling yet again from upstairs.
“DADDY! I gotta poop!”
He looked up from his computer and just yelled upstairs “Why didn’t you poop when you pissed?!?”
Grant took a second then yelled, “I didn’t have to go then!”
“It was four minutes ago!”
A few minutes later Grant was tucked in, and he was back at the laptop scouring schools like he was on the Rivals Top 100.
A 6 out of 10 was good enough for a burger joint. He could and should try to do better for Grant. Considering his own academic achievements might not have even reached a 6, he felt it was almost necessary to up the ante for the school his offspring attends.
Armed with an inner fire to switch his fortunes, he fired up both Zillow and Credit Karma. Both sites quickly extinguished his fire like a drunk pissing on his discarded cigarette.
Fuck, I knew buying that jet ski was a bad idea. And good God, these houses are expensive. I wonder if Grant would mind sleeping in a converted laundry room.
As he started doing some math on one of those “How much home can you afford” websites (Plot twist: not much), he yet again heard a voice from upstairs.
“Daddy, my night light went out!”
“Grant, it’s easier to sleep when it’s darker anyways!”
“No it’s not, I need it!”
Begrudgingly he trudged up the stairs again, making sure to pound each one with emphasis so his child could know how through with his shit that his father was. He walked into the room and looked at the outlet containing the night light, and noticed it was on the floor. “Grant, did you just unplug your night light?”
The child was sitting up in bed and looked innocently at his father. “Nope, it just fell out.”
Sure. Sure it did. Goddamn liar.
“Alright, well this is the last time I’m coming up here. I love you. Please, please. Get some sleep.”
With that, he made his way back to his laptop, less enthusiastic than he had been. Yeah, he still had a year to try to do what he could to move, but it didn’t look like the home market was going to go down anytime soon.
Maybe if I crush sales this year…could start giving lessons again too…wonder if plasma donation is still a thing.
Taking a sip of his grocery store-brand La Croix, something on the school page caught his eye. A perfect 10 rating reasonably close to his home. Clicking the bubble, the info popped up for “Great Hills Academy.”
Damn. He’d played travel ball back in high school with a guy who went to the Academy. The dude currently was working on Wall Street, had a smoking hot wife, and rumor was he’d gotten to play golf with Levar Burton from Reading Rainbow. Dude was fucking crushing life.
Knowing right away the Academy probably cost more than his rent, car, and savings were worth combined, he clicked anyways. Aesthetically pleasing was an understatement — this website was made to let the visitor know that they were breeding the best and brightest here. The campus grounds looked lush, all the kids looked like future office holders or professional golfers. Private school had never been a thought for him at all, but this joint was incredibly appealing.
This place looks like if Harvard and a driving range had a baby. Oh well. I did public school and didn’t turn out so…well I’m alive at least. I guess–
Suddenly he noticed a tab on the top of the page labeled “Financial Aid & Scholarships.”
Oh, baby. This could work. He clicked just as a voice screamed:
“DADDY! Can I have a bedtime story?” .
If you’re enjoying following “PostGrad Single Dad,” be sure to go listen to the latest episode of “The DadGum Podcast” live on Grandex Labs.