When the boy was in 4th grade, before school one day, he and a buddy discovered they could fit inside their lockers and still get the doors closed. As a result, the boys were inside their lockers when the final bell sounded. Upon hearing the bell, both boys bolted from the lockers but were denied permission to enter the class. Instead they were sent to the office to receive a tardy slip. When the attendance officer asked the boy why he was late getting to class, he responded, “Because our teacher is a flaming shitball”. As you can imagine, the attendance officer was not expecting that answer. Needless to say he was sent to the principal’s office, where she instructed him to call me and explain what happened.
I’ve never had a tougher time trying not to laugh as the boy struggled to say those words to me over the phone. “Well, I uh, kinda…” I could hear someone behind him saying, “There’s no kinda mister”. “Well, um, I called Mrs. Klear a flaming shitball.” “WHAT? You called her WHAT?” “I’m sorry mom it just came out I didn’t mean to say it, it just came out, please don’t kill me….” In all honesty, his assessment of his teacher wasn’t too far off the mark, but, that was beside the point. Stifling a laugh, I put on my stern voice and told him to apologize to the principal and that we would talk about his consequences when he arrived home.
Fast forward to sixth grade camp. Evidently we didn’t impress upon him enough that using colorful language would not be tolerated. Apparently, you cannot tell classmates to “shut the hell up” or refer to your flashlight as an “f__k’ing” thing especially to an adult. As a result the boy is serving a one day suspension at home with me. His principal and I came to this agreement the other day, when I learned, he was not the only kid serving a suspension on Thursday. We also agreed this would be one of the toughest days the boy has ever had at home. Growing up is hard to do…
QoftD: Mom what do I have to do to get ice cream for dessert tonight? The doll asked me in a hopeful tone. “Manufacture the stuff”. “Oh pooh!”