It Used To Be An Acronym

The sun keeps pouring through the window no matter how hard I will it to go away.

The rain must have stopped sometime in the night. Do I smell waffles? Waffles mean Wednesday.

I roll out of bed. I make my way down the stairs enjoying the aroma as it grows stronger.

I stumble into the kitchen and slump into my seat.

“What’s on the schedule today?” I ask.

“Eat first,” my mother responds.

I start drowning a couple waffles in syrup as my sister chimes in: “I’m meeting with the book club to discuss Jane Eyre. You are making cookies for us.”

“Home ec? Isn’t that a little old fashioned?” I say with a chuckle.

“Don’t be smart,” my mother replied “it’s chemistry, I’ll need the molar weights of all of your ingredients, and an explanation of the chemical reactions”

“Verbal or written?” I ask, dreading the answer.

“When you ask in that tone of voice, it’s going to be written.” I really need to remember to stay positive, most kids would kill for this gig.

And with that, another day at PEACE Academy begins.

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