Apparently it’s a different matter where the school system is concerned.  They want me to get my doctor to write a letter that they would put in her file so she can be pigeon holed as an ADD kid.  They want this badly.  Five of them, spearheaded by my dd’s primary teacher, held a meeting with me which was designed and intended to pressure me into providing them with a doctor’s note to that effect.

They tell me this would be good for her because with the official classification they can change her curriculum.  They would not answer the question of exactly how they would change it, except to say she would not be taken out of the classroom except for the gifted program she’s already in, and to hint they would reduce her workload.

I’m not so sure she should have her workload reduced.  I do think the teacher needs to change a number of the ways in which she handles things, but not by cutting back on what they expect her to accomplish.

So I’ve got a question I’m hoping you can help me with.  Should I give them the doctor’s note or not?

I’m going to make some other changes too. 

Saturdays are going to be photo days for me, which generally means Gerbil TV. 

I’m calling Mondays Monday Madness and will be posting stuff from the mailbag, guests bloggers other than Mr. Al, games, and whatever else comes to mind.

Tuesdays will be Talk To Me Tuesday.  It’s a space for all of us to talk about what we’re doing and what’s on our minds; a place to post off topic stuff all week long.

Mr. Al will still be here every Wednesday.  I’ll still be posting Thursday 13 most Thursdays, and Suzie’s House will still appear every Friday.

Eventually I may be adding a feature called Fiction Fridays in which I will link to other people who have posted a piece of fiction sometime during the week.

Various news or snippets may be posted on top of these so that more than one post will go up on a given day, but I hope to keep that to a minimum as I find bloggers who blog all day long overwhelming.

5.  I actually get tired of reading faster now than I did with my one-prescription glasses.

6.  I have to tip my head funny to read; not just back, back and to the side.

7.  My family thinks I’m giving them the stink eye when I’m just trying to figure out which angle I need to be at to see them clearly.

8.  I have yet to figure out what I can focus on with the left and right sides of the bottom of my lenses. 

9.  I went to three eye doctors, and they all thought it was imperative that I switch.

10.  I can see stop signs now.  Wait, was that a plus or a minus?

11.  I did not get the anti-glare, and it was a serious mistake.  My world is noticeably darker now.

12.  Because of the thickness and anti-UV of my glasses I have funny looking skin tone around my eyes when I take them off, but I also don’t have as many wrinkles as I would have.  So I guess I look like a young, inverted racoon when my glasses are off.

13.  Vacuuming has become an adventure.  To see the floor I have to tip my head way down, and then the glasses fall off.  If I don’t, then it’s pure guess work as to where the dirt is hiding.

Next time I’m getting laser surgery.

Mister Newnham let the matter drop for the time being. But he made it clear that he intended to bring the matter forward again, this time as a formal motion, during the May 4th session. Pitt tried to do an end run around Newnham by asking what, exactly, he intended to say? Newnham, realizing he was far out on a limb, stated that his only concern was for the Prince’s “embarrassed situation.” He would formally request that someone go to the King and ask that he place before Parliament a motion to vote money for his kid. That’s all!

Before the Prime Minster could breath a sigh of relief, up from the Tory benches rose one John Rolle, a solid Church of England squire from Devon. Mister Rolle said that the question of money for the Prince had serious implications. This was because it was  ”a question which went immediately to affect our constitution in Church and State.”

Uh-oh. The only question that he could possibly be referring to was, of course, the question of wither or not the Prince had married a Catholic. After a bit of hemming and hawing, throat clearing and pretending not to know what the speaker was referring to, Pitt tried to get Newnham to drop the whole matter. If Newnham did not, Pitt threatened, he might be forced to bring up the issue, “though with infinite reluctance, to the disclosure of circumstances which he should otherwise think it his duty to conceal.”

At this point, one of the Prince’s supporters, one who was “out of the loop” so to speak, rose to defend the Prince’s honor. Base accusations had been made! Ugly rumors were being circulated! This had to end! No, by God, they would not let the matter drop! The Prince’s own people had called Pitt’s bluff. Pitt had no more interest than the Whigs in exposing the Royal Family to such a scandal. The Tories, with more venom than foresight, were glad to help the Prince’s “supporters.”

It was Fox who would handle the matter for the Prince. What are friends for? Although Mrs Fitzherbert did not like Fox, and consequently the Prince had cooled noticeably toward him, Fox believed that a flat out declaration that the Prince had not, nor would he ever, marry Mrs Fitzherbert would best serve everyone. What could be simpler? After all, Fox believed it was the truth.

So that’s exactly what he did. On April 30 1787, Fox spoke to the House denouncing those who had spread vile rumors about his friend There was no truth, none at all, concerning a marriage between the Prince and Mrs Fitzherbert. The opposition was not convinced, but it had no proof. Fox left Parliament convinced he had done his best by his friend, his party, and his country.

Some time later, while having drinks at one of his clubs, he was approached by a gentleman who had some interesting news. “Mister Fox, I hear that you have denied in the House the Prince’s marriage to Mrs Fitzherbert. You have been misinformed. I was at the marriage.” Oh dear. Fox had been placed in a very difficult position. True, he placed himself there but that was only because his good friend the Prince had sworn on his dead granny’s Bible that he was not, and never had been married.