DD is bemoaning her SAT scores. (Of course. This being perfectionism, a nearly perfect outing in Critical Reading has been diminished to "that math scores sucks like an industrial vacuum pump.")

Anyway-- she is at work and I'm texting with her--

She: So does this mean that I won't have to spend every Sunday for the rest of the summer prepping to take it again? wink

Me: Not unless your dad has decided that you MUST be assured entry into Harvard. laugh


Let's put it this way-- I'm not thrilled with how low that math score was, either (it was just under 700), but the other two are so high it probably won't matter anywhere but CalTech, MIT, or an Ivy, and possibly not even there given her other... um... portfolio.

Schrödinger's cat walks into a bar. And doesn't.