I guess there’s a word or phrase that parents of school-aged children fear more than “fundraiser,” but I sure can’t think of it.

Maybe “emergency room” or “summer vacation.”

Or “math.”

Truth is, the fundraiser is the dark cloud on any school-year horizon. It is a necessary evil. Like learning the periodic table.

Sugarcoat the topic any way you want:

“It’s for the kids.”

“We’ve needed the money to get (Pick A Cause — band uniforms; microscope; gymnasium; new coach) for a long time.”

“We won’t be able to go on the annual educational trip without it.”

All true. It even saves the parents money in the long run. And often in the short run. But the hard, cold truth is that few of us are good at selling and most of us aren’t anxious buyers of what schools sell. By October, you see a chocolate bar or a tub of cookie dough and you either call security or you start crying and sheepishly reach for your wallet, beaten into submission and robotically handing over money without even knowing – or caring – whether you just bought a fleece blanket in school colors, a tailgate hamburger dinner or a raffle ticket to win a lamp.

I wish there was a way they could sell me something I need. Can’t Suzie from band offer me a good deal on a set of steel-belted radials? Can Key Club raffle off a month of free home electricity? When is the choir going to have an underwear sale?

Car washes are the right idea. Now let’s branch out into toilet paper sales. Cooking grease. Real estate. Those are the kinds of fundraisers I want to hitch a ride on. I’d rather stockpile cans of school-sponsored diesel than the ready-to-make apple pies that have been in my freezer since March.

Regardless, I am a fairly easy score — and have the World’s Finest Chocolate backlog to prove it.

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