The Boy
Last Saturday, the Boy Scout troop was headed out to a Lake Erie Monsters game at The Q. Somehow our Troop Master got 12 loge tickets and decided to take the troop instead of his beer drinking buddies. The Boy was pretty vanilla about this whole trip.
You are going to have such a good time! Those loges are cool!
Whatever.
I've never even been in loge! You're going to have to tell us all about it!
Yeah.
You wait and see. You are going to be really impressed!
Hmph.
Five and half hours later, The Boy burst through the front door filled with news. That-loge-had-a-special-elevator-you-went-up-into-a-carpeted-hall-and-a-little-room-that-had-couches-and-tables-and-a-balcony-with-more-seats-where-you-could-watch-the-game-and-it-had-it's-OWN-BATHROOM!
Cool.
****************
Do you remember taking Health in the eighth grade? I'll give everyone a chance to shudder now.
The Boy is in Health right now and this past week was the project where an egg becomes your baby and you have to keep it safe for five school days. The Boy ended up with a pretty little pink egg, a girl named Alice, which he carried around in the bottom half of a juice container.
The first day of the project was Monday and that night was the Winter Concert at school. Very politely The Boy asked if I would babysit Alice during the concert. Of course I would! The Girl found a little Christmas basket with ribbons on it and padded it with a Christmas towel. There was no way I was taking Alice out in a plastic box to her first concert. She looked very pretty. The Boy looked like we had all lost our minds.
But he needn't have worried. At the concert I saw at least seven other parents with eggs in little baskets. Two other "grandparents" sat with me and we all showed off our babies. I spent the concert sewing the edges of new Christmas ornament together. (Just sitting at school events makes me antsy.) A friend leaned over and asked it I was making an outfit for the egg!
Everyday during the week the Boy would come home with an update on who dropped their egg and killed their baby. There was even a death certificate that they would have to fill out. The Boy made it all the way until Friday afternoon and then he dropped her. But she didn't break. She only got a crack. The Boy was reported to "Egg Services" for potential abuse. Harsh project! I asked him if he learned anything about being a parent.
Not really, he said. It's just an egg.
1 comment:
You're lucky. Sam had to bring home a Baby Think-It-Over. That thing cried nonstop the whole weekend, all night long. Sam never heard it, of course. It was horrible. I wrote a scathing letter to his teacher regarding that activity--the fact that it wasn't voluntary. It's a terrible imposition, and I agree with your Boy: it doesn't make kids at that age really make the connection.
Post a Comment