It is dangerously close to Chirstmas vacation. I have five days to get through until I am FREE!
Last week was similar to herding cats and I think this week will prove to be more of the same.
Note of Self (When Self finally becomes a parent): The tooth fairy should NEVER bring you $20 a tooth. 1) That's an absurd amount of money for a lousy tooth and 2) It's a lot of money to a seven year old. It prompts said seven year old to wiggle every single tooth in his head. Tahlil has managed to pull out two teeth this week. He's saving up for Guitar Hero. "A few more teeth and you could swing Rock Band, if you're feeling ambitious."
Meagan pulled out one. David did, too. Meagan got 7 dollars, David got 50 cents. Life isn't fair.
Pretty soon we'll be gumming our way through second grade. Honestly, it's starting to gross me out. I'm praying that everything that was going to fall out, has already fallen out by now.
I went out with some teacher friends last night and over a (okay, it might have been my fourth) glass of Riesling, I signed myself up for the Winter Pagaent for the school assembly and PTA. There's dancing. (Which I can't do) There's singing. (Which I REALLY can't do) I'll have to think of something clever to get out of it. How about "Please don't ask me after I've had an in depth conversation about the musical genius Lil Wayne? ("OHMYGOD! I FREAKIN LOVE LIL WHAAAAAYNE!") That's usually not a good sign." No more wine and promises!
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Gerardo - "Oh, I cough a little."
Sometimes, I wonder. (Trite, yet...profound!)
Today's wonder? You should've never asked...
How do you throw up on the floor and not realize it?
Yesterday, I was exhausted. Most people can go back to work after a holiday and have a quiet, relaxed sort of day. They can listen to music, work at their desks, and, besides the stresses of their job, not have silly stuff to worry about.
Silly stuff like 'Oh. My. God. Tell me that is not vomit.'
I should start by explaining Gerardo. Unforgivably cute and completely earnest, Gerardo is the kind of kid that makes your day just by showing up. He draws Sonic on every single shred of paper he owns and arranges his crayons in his art box by length. He's the kind of kid that holds the door for random strangers and says "please" and "thank you" without any prodding. His desk looks like a bomb hit even after he cleans it and, no matter what, he can only find one of his two Batman gloves when it's time to go outside.
Anyway, onto the story...
It's math time and I am teaching a fabulous lesson on place value. We're working in small groups to practice identifying the tens and ones places. We're engaged, we're attentive, by God, we're learning!
I glance down and there is a puddle (a small lake, really) of clear fluid (with cherry colored chunks to give it a little something extra, I guess) under Gerardo's desk.
My thought? 'Oh. My. God. Tell me that is not vomit.'
My actual response? I give the kids a problem to work on and stroll on over to the offending desk. I asked Gerardo if he got sick and he says "Oh, I cough a little. I think (he thinks?!?!) I think I might make stuff come out of my mouth."
It did. It's all under his desk and hanging in gleaming strings from his Spiderman backpack. (Which, is no Spidey web. Thankyouverymuch.)
Good Lord. He has yacked all over the place and didn't even realize it. I think back to myself at the tender age of seven and cannot imagine myself getting physically ill, hurling, and then carrying on with my day as if nothing happened. Deciding at some point that learning was a better option than going home and being coddled.
So, Davs, this is why I don't wear dressy clothes to work. You never know when someone's gonna vomit. Hey, they might not even know they did it.
Today's wonder? You should've never asked...
How do you throw up on the floor and not realize it?
Yesterday, I was exhausted. Most people can go back to work after a holiday and have a quiet, relaxed sort of day. They can listen to music, work at their desks, and, besides the stresses of their job, not have silly stuff to worry about.
Silly stuff like 'Oh. My. God. Tell me that is not vomit.'
I should start by explaining Gerardo. Unforgivably cute and completely earnest, Gerardo is the kind of kid that makes your day just by showing up. He draws Sonic on every single shred of paper he owns and arranges his crayons in his art box by length. He's the kind of kid that holds the door for random strangers and says "please" and "thank you" without any prodding. His desk looks like a bomb hit even after he cleans it and, no matter what, he can only find one of his two Batman gloves when it's time to go outside.
Anyway, onto the story...
It's math time and I am teaching a fabulous lesson on place value. We're working in small groups to practice identifying the tens and ones places. We're engaged, we're attentive, by God, we're learning!
I glance down and there is a puddle (a small lake, really) of clear fluid (with cherry colored chunks to give it a little something extra, I guess) under Gerardo's desk.
My thought? 'Oh. My. God. Tell me that is not vomit.'
My actual response? I give the kids a problem to work on and stroll on over to the offending desk. I asked Gerardo if he got sick and he says "Oh, I cough a little. I think (he thinks?!?!) I think I might make stuff come out of my mouth."
It did. It's all under his desk and hanging in gleaming strings from his Spiderman backpack. (Which, is no Spidey web. Thankyouverymuch.)
Good Lord. He has yacked all over the place and didn't even realize it. I think back to myself at the tender age of seven and cannot imagine myself getting physically ill, hurling, and then carrying on with my day as if nothing happened. Deciding at some point that learning was a better option than going home and being coddled.
So, Davs, this is why I don't wear dressy clothes to work. You never know when someone's gonna vomit. Hey, they might not even know they did it.
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