Posts Tagged ‘School’

Fantasy vs Science Fiction

Mark:  “If you could wish for ANYTHING, what would you wish for?”

Mark’s friend:  “Hmm…I have to think.  What would you wish for?”

Mark:  “To control time.”

Mark’s friend:  “A slice of pizza that you could eat as many times as you want but it always regenerates.  You know, it disappears and comes back.  So you can eat it again.”

Mark:  “Regenerates WITHOUT saliva.”

Successful Play-doh Extraction

So we’re at the doctor on Wednesday…

Doctor:  “Mark, um, the inside of your ear is blue.”  Looks some more.  “Did you put a bead in here?”

Mark (emphatically):  “No!”

Doctor:  “Does it hurt?”

Mark:  “No.”

Doctor:  “Do you have trouble hearing?”

Mark:  “Yes!”

(Inside my head):  THAT explains a lot.

Doctor:  “Well, it has to come out.  Schedule with the ENT.”

Scheduled with the ENT.  (I have to type it as ENT, not Ent–otherwise I has visions of Treebeard poking twiggy fingers into Mark’s ear).

Hastily rescheduled Friday morning after a sobbing Mark called from school that the 2 PM appointment overlapped the school Halloween costume parade.

ENT:  “Okay, Mark, let’s get that bead out.”

Mark:  “Will this take long?  The costume parade is at 2:30.”

ENT:  “Not if you hold still.”


ENT:  “Oooaaaakkky.  It’s crumbling, so not a bead.”

Mark (indignantly):  “I did NOT put a bead in my ear.”

ENT:  “I think it’s play-doh.”

Mark:  “Oh.  That.”

(Inside my head):  The paper wad up the nose.  Now this.  You’re out of easy-to-retrieve-from orifices, kid.

In the car:

Me:  “How DID you end up with play-doh in your ear?”

Mark:  “I sleepwalk.”

Badly Behaved Parents at Paul’s Graduation

So eldest child graduated from high school on Monday…

I’d like to say we were all well behaved and considerate of the solemn occasion.  Well, most of us were.  Mark, Kate, and Sam brought books and read during the ceremony, so they were quiet if not actually attentive.  Paul’s grandparents were well-behaved and used their grandparental privilege to snag a little nap after Paul crossed the stage.

Paul’s parents, however, whispered together snarkily the whole time.  Sorry, people sitting around us.  There were too many absurdities, I guess, and maybe a little self-delusion that we couldn’t possibly be old enough to have a child graduating from high school by acting juvenile.

Such as:  “I didn’t know ‘videographer’ meant ‘playing video games on one screen, in full view of the audience, while filming the ceremony on the other.’  It’s true what they say.  Ya learn something new every day.”

Then there was the chamber choir rendition of the John Lennon song, which sent Brian and I off into fits of choked giggles whilst imagining which of our cherished high school rebellion music would be slated for such treatment.  Guns and Roses’ ‘Sweet Child of Mine’?  Jon Bon Jovi’s ‘You Give Love a Bad Name’?  Madonna’s ‘Circle in the Sand’?  AC/DC?  Poison?  Twisted Sister?

Worse–will we be attending our grandchildren’s graduations to choral remixes of ‘Call Me Maybe’?

Then the earnest young Valedictorian claimed that you can’t have real emotions in texts, and we started exchanging risque ones to prove otherwise.

But the Honor Society recognition really separated the Mildly Naughty Parent from the Hardcore Naughty Parent…

Brian and I were both struck by the gender imbalance when the Honor Societies’ members were asked to stand.  A good 90% of them were young women.

Brian (whispers to Sam, which I don’t hear):  “See how few boys there are?  There’s an opportunity for you.”

Me (in Sam’s other ear):  “Looks like the Honor Societies are going to be your chance to meet girls.”




Trust Issues

So Kate, Mark, and the Neighbor Child are in the backseat…

Mark:  “I was on green today.”

NC:  “Which of us gets in trouble at school the most?”

No one answers.  This answer is obvious.  Poor Mark.

NC (persisting, to Kate):  “Have you ever NOT been on green?”

Kate:  “No.”  A pause.  “Well, there was this one time.  But I don’t want to talk about it.”

NC:  “Why not?”

Kate:  “I keep it secret.”

NC:  “I won’t tell anyone.”

Kate (silent reluctance).

NC:  “I pinky swear.”

Mark, evidently still annoyed about being cast as the Bad Child, snarls:  “We don’t trust your pinky.”



So this happened at dinner last night…

Kate:  “Do you get periods in fifth grade?”

Me (in my head):  AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!   Oh no.  THIS conversation.  Right now?  At dinner?  DIDN’T I GIVE YOU A BOOK THAT COVERED ALL THIS??

Me (out loud):  “Um, not usually.  Most people get to junior high first.”

Kate:  “What about high school?”

Me:  “That’s a little late.”

Kate (a lovely little ripple of confusion spreading across her forehead):  “Why wouldn’t you change classes in high school?”


My (Future?) Irish Castle

Mark:  “When I am grown-up and a millionaire, what would you like me to buy you, Mom?”

Me:  “I don’t know.  I always thought Anne McCaffrey’s author’s bio sounded pretty awesome.  “Anne McCaffery lives and works in a renovated castle in Ireland.'”

Mark:  “So you want a castle in Ireland?”

Me:  “Sounds good.  So you’ll buy me one when you’re grown up and rich?”

Mark waves a dismissive hand.  “Of course not.  I’m going to get rich from my TIME MACHINE.  I’ll just go BACK IN TIME, build you a CASTLE, and then it’ll BE HERE now.”

On a related note, his homework this week…

The book he’d chosen to read was The Magic Schoolbus in the Time of the Dinosaurs.  The question he chose to answer was “Is this realistic fiction?”

His paragraph began:  “No.  Kids can’t go back in time to visit the dinosaurs.  Until I grow up and invent a time machine…”

Show Your Work

So Mark’s working on his math homework…

Mark:  “I’m finished!”

Me:  “Great.  Let’s have a look.”

I peruse the page.  It’s a multi-step word problem, the sort of thing I was doing in 5th grade, not 2nd.  The last question:  “Explain how you got this answer.”

What Mark wrote:  “I used my brain.”   

I AM (Half) Iron Man

Walking home from the bus stop…

Mark:  “I have something sad to tell you.”

Me (thinking:  OH NO!):  “Oh?”

Mark:  “I am half made out of metal now.”

Me (relieved):  “Oh?”

Mark (nodding seriously):  “I was in a TERRIBLE ACCIDENT.  I was RIPPED IN HALF.  But somehow I survived and now my OTHER half is made of metal.”  (Pats his stomach whilst making a clinking sound.)

Me:  “So  how’s the whole being half-metal thing working out for you?”

Kate rolls her eyes, disgusted I’m entertaining this nonsense.

Mark (more sage nodding):  “Pretty good.  I got dented during a fight from a HORRIBLE BLOW but it’s okay now.”

Kate (deciding, apparently, someone needed to speak up for reality):  “So you’re half made out of metal?”

Mark:  “Uh-huh.”

Kate:  “No you’re not.”

Mark:  “Yes I am.”

Kate:  “So pull off  your skin and show us.”

Mark:  “I am a war robot.  I don’t have to prove anything to YOU.”

Two Hour Delay

Odd things happen in my household when there’s a two-hour school delay.  Like yesterday:

Mark (coming back in after playing in the snow):  “Ow!  Ow!  Oowwwww!”

Me:  “What’s wrong?”

Mark:  “I hurt my heel.”

Me:  “What did you do?”

Mark:  “I jumped off the climber.”

Me:  “Why did you jump off the climber?”

Mark:  “Because I wanted to see if jumping from so high up would hurt me.”

Me (trying to hold in the laughter):  “Pfft!”

Kate (scornfully):  “Scientists don’t experiment on THEMSELVES, doofus.  Don’t you remember Mythbusters?  I think we should build a crash-test dummy.”

Which is how they came to spend the next half-hour brainstorming HOW they could build a crash-test dummy (“Could we use turkey drumsticks for the bones?”) over muffins and hot chocolate.


We Miss Sidewalks

Walking to the bus stop:

Mark:  “My superhero instincts tell me there’s danger near.”

Kate:  “We’re walking in the ROAD.  We could be hit by a CAR and KILLED.  OF COURSE there is danger.”

Mark:  “REAL danger.  I sense  REAL danger.”

Kate:  “Getting hit by a car IS real danger.”

Mark:  “Getting cut in half by a LASER is real danger.”

Kate:  “You’re dead either way.”

Mark:  “Hffphm.”

%d bloggers like this: