“Dad, teachers puff up when they’re mad or serious. Didn’t you know that? Their voice gets deeper and booms and they straighten up really tall.”
[This lesson comes along with a nice illustration of a teacher “booming” the folly of pouting. I will add the picture later.]
A note attached to my van states that they will tow away my vehicle if it is not moved before Monday at 2:00 p.m. Apparently my lease also requires that I drive around on occasion. Monday’s to-do list continues to grow.
I have emails to return, but haven’t had time. Silence must not be confused with ignoring.
In fifteen minutes I head to the roller rink for three hours of balancing practice. If it wasn’t for the falling, I’d say that human feet would be better with wheels. I can still skate backwards but can no longer leap like a disco-version Baryshnikov. Okay, I never could. But once I could fall down, laugh, and pop back up all without missing a beat. Now, the consequences of a fall must be monitored as closely as the core temperature of a nuclear reactor.
Goodwill is a good place for kids books, although the clerks name tags are not always printed the clearest. For a second grader, a capital “I” should have crosses along the top and bottom. Without them, an “I” will always look like an “L”, and with that mysterious silent “E” on the end of things, an eight year old, attempting his best to read and sound out the world and be polite will calmly thank the clerk by saying:
“Thank you Jackal”
when he really means: Thank you Jackie.