Way before her freshman year -- back when she was in the sixth grade, in fact -- the Roo-girl decided she wanted to take French in high school.
I spent a considerable amount of effort trying to talk her out of it, and it turned out to be a less than stellar experience.
A tutor saved the day last spring, and as the school year came to a close, I spent a considerable amount of time trying to talk her out of French 2 and into Spanish 1.
To no avail, I might add. She is a stubborn thing, and wants to "finish" what she started.
Accordingly, I was just about to make the call to set up some review sessions with her beloved tutor before school starts again in two weeks. (OMIGOD! TWO WEEKS????)
Yeah. So, before I picked up the phone, I punched the button to listen to our messages and heard this:
"Hi, Mrs. Planet. I'm Ms. High School Counselor, and I was calling to talk about a conflict in Roo-girl's schedule for next year. The only French 2 class is offered during the same period as ..."
*wait for it*
"... Cheerleading. And so please give me a call so she can pick which one she wants."
Guess who's going to take Spanish 1 this year.