This morning, I find myself desperately seeking refuge from the onslaught of “First Day of School” Facebook photos.

You see, the day after labour day reveals an ugly truth.

There are a lot of unfortunate looking children on Facebook.

I probably don’t need to single out anyone, because by now, if you’re a parent or legal guardian of a school-aged child, you should know that your bundle of joy has a face for radio.

Oh, stop.

She can’t possibly be talking about my spawn, can she?

Most likely, yes.

And the good thing is, other people are probably thinking this too.

They’re just polite and don’t abuse their social media savvy to share their ignorance.

Sure, we’re gonna like your photos and pretend to be supportive, but the reality is, most of us without children don’t care.

Your child made it to school!

Congratulations!!!

Make sure you buy them a present as an award for doing something that’s mandated by law.

Make sure you also teach them how everyone’s a winner, so that any future setbacks can have them good and ready for a lifetime of delusion.

As I write this, I just finished my final conversation with nieces and nephews, inquiring about their respective first days.

Your kids might be ugly but mine are perfection.

Sorry, that’s how the world works.

Part of my refuge involves looking at the “On this day” feature on Facebook.

Maybe I’ll see something amusing.

I suddenly realize digging through my Facebook memories involves many a Facebook friend tagging me in “Back to School” photos from yesteryear.

I smirk.

Some of the children from today’s display  had exhibited signs of pre-ugliness.

In the interest of brevity, I decide to coin the term prugly.

Say it with me.

Prugly.

I enjoy this term because it rolls off the tongue.

It can be used to describe many things; including children before a growth spurt, bases loaded nobody out, and my blank canvass before I do anything to it at Paint Nite.

Now that’s pretty prugly!

Say that 10 times fast.

Alliteration always amuses.

I digress.

Satisfied with my new term, and dissatisfied with my search, I keep scrolling until I find something useful.

At the very least, I’m pleased to report that through the years, some of my Facebook friends have improved the quality of their crappy photo taking.

Suddenly I see something of value!

Exactly five years ago, while children went back to school, parents went back to work, and the world around us breathed a communal sigh of responsibility, being the THINK (terrifically happy, income, no kids) that I am, I decided to take that first week of September off from work.

A staycation had me enjoying pool days, catching up with friends, and of course, a trip to the Polish grocery store.

And a dare.

I have done many a stupid thing for a laugh (completely sober by the way) and this story is no different.

Part of the day’s plan involved my mom and I meeting my cousin for lunch and shopping.

We were a bit early for lunch, so ended up picking up groceries.

As the story goes; my dear cousin (who can prove the validity of all these stories) says;

“Hey Lidia! I bet you can’t get those ladies to take a photo with you!!”

I glance down the aisle and noticed two really cute ladies having a rather intense conversation.

How or why we come up with these dares shall remain a mystery.

Not one to back down from a challenge; I start sauntering down the aisle, trying to think of my strategy.
At this point, my mom calls out after me;

“Santa Lidia!!”  Saint Lidia, her pet name for me, otherwise known as a war cry for whenever one of my ideas was about to take place.

For all of my religious readers; Saint Lidia is the patron Saint of awesome.

I digress again.

I make it to my new friends and decide the best approach was to lie.

I tell Patrycja and Magdalena (who knows if that’s their real names?) that I’m on holidays, away from my homeland back in Eastern Europe, and those two ladies remind me of the many women who raised me.

I have an accent they don’t recognize, partly because it sounded equal parts Australian, Yiddish and Klingon.

I use lots of hand gestures and speak louder to ensure understanding.

When I symbol towards taking a photo with them; at first they disagree.

Oh no! I’m going to lose to bet.

What did I even bet on?!!

I try even harder, becoming louder and using more swooping hand gestures.

Just when I thought my ladies were going to walk away from me; Patrycja looks over Magdalena who shrugs her shoulders and says “ok.”

Success!

Proof that prugly situations can work in your favour.
And your photos too!