Sunday, September 19, 2010
My son came home on Friday and informed me that I would be getting a call from his teacher. “God damn it!” I responded, “What did you do now, boy?” Of course, he said nothing. The word “dumb ass” must be written across my forehead in some sort of ink that only children under 12 can see. “Ok.” I say, “I suppose Mrs. T is just calling to chit chat, right? She wants to know how my day went. Is that it?” Then the tale begins…
On the other side of the spectrum, part of me wonders if Mrs. T even said what he claims. She never called me which could mean he’s full of shit. Of course, if my teacher had already called my mom on two separate occasions the last thing I would want to do is make up a lie that she was going to call once again.
In a way I’m glad that he told me about what his teacher said on a Friday evening. At least I had the weekend to cool off. I was ready to smack a bitch on Friday. Now I am more capable of calling school tomorrow morning to talk to Mrs. T in a cool and collected manner. I have to call her. I have to know if this happened or not. Either way someone is going to get chewed out no matter if it’s the teacher or my son.
Today he’s sick. He’s been running fever on and off all day and he threw up this morning. I knew he was sick as soon as I laid eyes on him. How convenient for him if he’s sick tomorrow. Regardless, I’m calling school.
In lighter news…
You ever notice that kids can be easily occupied with boxes. It makes me wonder how the toy industry makes so much damn money. My daughter and her friend played for hours with two empty 12-pack beer boxes on their heads yesterday. Too bad I didn’t have wrapping paper tubes to with it! They could have jousted. My daughter stashed the boxes in her closet and today when her friend came back they played with them again.