I’m not sure if my boys are getting too wise for me or just have too many wisecracks for me.
This morning I told Buster he had to change socks. “Remember last time, when your socks smelled so bad because of your stinky feet?” I asked. “I don’t want the stinky sock alarm to go off in school. Then everybody will have to evacuate the building because of you.”
He gave me that long, thoughtful, 2nd grade look. “Why does everybody say the alarm goes off, instead of the alarm goes on?”
I gave him that long, thoughtful, grad school dropout look. “I don’t know. It’s just what they say.” I pushed a pair of clean socks into his hand and ran away.
It’s Big Man’s sharing day. This is the modern way of saying he should take something for Show and Tell. In our Kindergarten, sharing is done by letter. The kids bring something to share that begins with the letter they are studying that week.
This week’s letter is L. We had hoped Big Man could take our Abraham Lincoln PEZ dispenser, but Lincoln recently went missing from our PEZ collection. As we sorted through our PEZ dispensers, I loudly asked the universe, “Where’s Mr. Lincoln?”
From the next room, came the universe’s terse reply, wrapped in Buster’s childish voice: “He’s dead.”
Big Man got an idea. “I think I might know where Mr. Lincoln is,” he told me, leading me toward the hall closet. “I think he’s in a blue or green bag. A teal bag.” At first, I didn’t understand his last description, so unready was I to hear a Kindergartner describe a color as teal. He rooted around in the closet and pulled out a bag that was plainly teal, to my limited understanding of blended hues.
Mr. Lincoln was not inside. The teal bag was a dead end.
We ran out of time before we located Mr. Lincoln, and if he’s hitching rides in colorful over-the-shoulder totes, we may never find him. In his place we sent PEZ Andrew Johnson. We rehearsed our story so Big Man could explain why he was bringing a J to L sharing. It boils down to this: “Mr. Johnson is here to announce the sad news that we’ve lost Mr. Lincoln.”
For all we know, he belongs to the ages now.
That is hilarious!
Thanks. These kids are crackups.
I’m still trying to wrap my brain around the whole “alarm going off” versus “alarm going on” thing…
Yeah. What’s up with that?
Mr. Lincoln is in Springfield Illinois, next to Mrs Lincoln. After all these years he probably has that dirty sock smell himself..
But are they in a teal bag?
Your schools are still open? Ours are closing fast. As for those stinky feet …. it aint gonna get any better with age. Just saying ….
Today was our last day of school for a while. I’m hoping the stinky feet will experience a period of more frequent baths when Buster discovers girls.
LOL Oh boy! Oh man! I’m laughing so hard! Sorry. I’m just looking back at “what was” with my brothers. Teehee …..
I bet they made life interesting for you.
Er, that’s one way of looking at things. LOL
Let me know if you need a new Lincoln. I live within spitting distance of Pez headquarters and am looking for an excuse to go there (if it ever opens to the public again).
The good news is the boys actually found Lincoln a couple days later. They came running to me with the news. It was a Kindergarten miracle. However, I wouldn’t at all mind acquiring a Zachary Taylor PEZ. (hint)
Buster almost quoted one of my ? of the day.
Great minds think alike.
Could it get funnier?! lol
These kids, right?
Truly! They’ll have to stay kids forever.
Is school still open there? Kids are off here until 2nd week in April, maybe for the rest of the school year. Parents are going cuckoo for cocoa puffs trying to use online learning tools or schooling the kids themselves. Teal? Sounds like you’re the one getting schooled at your house! We didn’t have a stinky sock alarm at our school, but certain teachers would speak up when necessary. I vividly recall our third grade teacher telling a student, “Take a bath tonight. You stink.”
That was a few weeks ago when school was still a thing. Now they have all day at home to school me. And Social Distancing is saving all Buster’s schoolmates from the scourge of his socks.