Tuesday, January 29, 2013

My head is going to explode....

I have no right to complain about anything...so I won't. Not publicly in this forum tonight. I sure want to, but I will not. Instead I will talk of other things. First off, our local ABC affiliate did a wonderful story on our friend, Barry Hughes who I have talked about at length. I think it is wonderful that they chose to highlight a man who has touched the lives of so many. Cancer is a cruel spectre that I despise within my very soul. It has taken away too many people I love, so I will give it no more press than to say, &^%$*$% to you, cancer. Forgive my punctuation expletives. I work with children, so I have to keep it clean. We are all better people with Barry in our lives, however much longer we are blessed to have him.

The second thing I will discuss is little boys. Good golly. The boy got in the car today, huffy puffy and annoyed with playground politics. This is not the first time he has expressed frustrations. Everybody has troubles on the playground at school...it is a rite of passage all must endure. We had the monkey bar hogs. S had the girls in the corners who would trap her outside of the teacher's line of vision and insult and mock people(including her...among other things). G has the foursquare hogs and the girls who call themselves the "Cool Kids". Whatever. The boy has the usual stuff: tire swing hogs, basketball hogs and tire swing pusher-offers. But to him, the most heinous of all playground offenses is the boy who calls them bad names. I have always encouraged them to tell me the word, no matter how bad it is. After some prodding today, I got him to tell me the word. This was not a new insult, just an ever confusing one for me. "Buddy, what did he call you?". "Well. He called me and the other boys a...a...a 'Seamus'(Shamus)". When I asked him what that meant, he said, "I don't know, but the way he said it it must be really bad!". This is the point where I have to really do trained yoga breathing and the like not to laugh in his presence. I managed to pull off a straight face. I mean, the most it means it like a private detective. Sounds pretty cool to me. Apparently, though, it is the kindergarten equivalent of a gentleman taking off his glove and smacking another man in the face before a duel. Who knew?

Lastly, G was reading the the dialogue in a speaking part she wants in her singing group's Spring musical. When she was reading the part of an athletic coach in a school she read, "Okay, kids. Hold your hand up when I read your name off of the 'rooster'." Now I know she meant 'roster', but the yoga breathing did nothing to keep me from laughing. I almost ran the car off the road. God bless her. She took it well.

I am a blessed woman, a mother to crazies, a wife to the coolest genius I know, a cancer despiser and a rabble rouser. You know you love it.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

No comments:

Post a Comment