Today I was filling out Anna’s “back to school” sheet. Of course this was happening five minutes before she needed to walk out the door for the bus, so everyone was in a panic. But I stole away from the chaos for a moment or two to fill it out.

It asked all the standard questions. “What are your child’s interests?” (I put that she is interested in stories about her ancestors, and music), and “How does your child act socially?” (I put that Anna used to have social anxiety–really bad, screamy, stressful social anxiety–before pre-school but that she hadn’t exhibited those symptoms for a long time.) Good, normal assessment questions.

Then at the bottom it said…
“Is there anything else I (her teacher) should be aware of?”

And I thought… yes. There kind of is.

Perhaps I should let her teacher know that the Weed family has had a very interesting summer.

Perhaps I should let her teacher know that Anna was on national TV a month ago because her dad is gay and married to her mother, a woman.

Perhaps it would be wise to do this in case she says something. Or in case a peer knows something. Or…. just in case.

But in the hustle and bustle, and with no time to really articulate this on three lines at the bottom of a “get to know you” page that might never be thoroughly read (aka when I was a teacher, I failed to read them all thoroughly), I just handed the packet to Anna with that question blank as she scurried out the door to catch the bus.

She’s fine, right? I thought. No reason to be concerned. No reason to let her teacher know that anything is going on. I’m sure Anna’s picked up that something has been happening, but I doubt she even could articulate what. No reason to raise alarms. Right?

Later on when I told Lolly about the question, she laughed and told me of the following conversation that she and Anna had yesterday:

Anna: Mommy, Are we famous?

Lolly: Well… why do you ask?

Anna: I just want to know.

Lolly: No. I wouldn’t say that we’re famous.

Anna: What is “famous?”

Lolly: It means that a lot of people know who you are.

Anna: Then I think we are famous. Because lots of people read Daddy’s post. And we were on TV.

Oh. So, that’s how perceptive she has been about this. Got it. It’s funny how we underestimate kids’ ability to pick up on what’s going on around them. Looks like we should maybe think about telling her teacher so she can field any weirdness.

Oh, and by the way, the conversation continued.

Anna: Is Confucius famous? Lots of people know who he is too.

Lolly: I guess Confucius is famous.

Anna: So we’re famous. And Confucius is famous.

Lolly: I… sure Anna. We’re famous. Just like Confucius.

Anyway, the conversation with her teacher is going to be ridiculous. “Hi, yes. So, we just wanted to mention that this summer has been a little crazy. We made national news, and Anna was on TV. Why? Oh, well… because Josh is gay. And I’m straight. Also, Anna doesn’t know that. But she does know that we’re famous. Except we’re not really famous. We’re just… gaymous. Just wanted to let you know! Oh, yes, and what day did you want me to come in and help with a class party?”
Why, yes, I am famous. Much like my homie, Confucius.