I find joy in random tid-bits.
Pockets of knowledge are one of my favorite things.
AND nothing is better than a good story.
*God enters laughing*
*rubbing his hands together*
*peering over heaven’s ledge to catch this daily event*
Act I:
Holly finds appropriate cone to pick up second grader from school carline. The minivan doors automatically open and Ryan gets into the back seat tugging at his rolling backpack.
Holly: What did you do in school today?
Ryan: huh?
School. Did you have a nice day?
*silence*
Are you OK? How was school?
ummmm.
Did you have a spelling test?
huh?
Spelling test…did you have one?
I can’t remember.
What about math? Did you do the 100 facts sheets today?
umph.
Huh? Did you have the 100 facts sheets today?
umph.
I can’t hear you. What happened in math?
*silence*
Did you see Caleb at recess?
maybe.
Maybe? Did you or didn’t you see your friend?
Idonno. Mom, can I eat the rest of my lunch?
Holly then turns up the music in the minivan and the two drive home in peace while Ryan sits contently eating his lunch dessert.
Usually this scenario is acted out in one act. I never really thought much about it until I went to a moms night out with some of the mothers of Ryan’s classmates.
I sat at the table speechless. They were each sharing stories of when the teacher said this, or when the class clown got in trouble for that, or how all the kids were complaining about the other.
What?
What is the source of this knowledge?
Girls.
Yep, that is my theory. Girls.
I have noticed in the school hallways that the moms of girls are engaged in conversation.
Conversation!
Conversation, how I long for you.
*snap out of it!*
Anyway, sorry. Last Friday there was an additional act…
Act II:
Holly and Ryan enter the house through the garage from the minivan. Ryan is pulling in his backpack from school. His face is smudged with chocolate.
Holly walks over to the computer to check her email.
Holly: Ryan, I have an email from your teacher.
Ryan: huh?
An email. From your teacher. Your art teacher.
*silence*
*pause for Holly to read*
RYAN. WHAT HAPPENED IN ART TODAY?
nothin.
No. Really. What happened?
*shoulders shrug*
Your teacher sent me this to tell me they had a party for you and two other kids.
Oh ya.
Why did they have a party?
Idonno.
Because your art was chosen to be sent to a state contest?
Oh ya. Mom, can I have a snack?
And this is why you will find me lurking in school hallways eavesdropping on the conversations of little girls…I believe that life is an information gathering experience. I read a vast variety of books, listen to a wide range of music, have friends from different circles, and will talk to just about anyone about anything.
I find joy in random tid-bits.
Pockets of knowledge are one of my favorite things.
AND nothing is better than a good story.
*God enters laughing*
*rubbing his hands together*
*peering over heaven’s ledge to catch this daily event*
Act I:
Holly finds appropriate cone to pick up second grader from school carline. The minivan doors automatically open and Ryan gets into the back seat tugging at his rolling backpack.
Holly: What did you do in school today?
Ryan: huh?
School. Did you have a nice day?
*silence*
Are you OK? How was school?
ummmm.
Did you have a spelling test?
huh?
Spelling test…did you have one?
I can’t remember.
What about math? Did you do the 100 facts sheets today?
umph.
Huh? Did you have the 100 facts sheets today?
umph.
I can’t hear you. What happened in math?
*silence*
Did you see Caleb at recess?
maybe.
Maybe? Did you or didn’t you see your friend?
Idonno. Mom, can I eat the rest of my lunch?
Holly then turns up the music in the minivan and the two drive home in peace while Ryan sits contently eating his lunch dessert.
Usually this scenario is acted out in one act. I never really thought much about it until I went to a moms night out with some of the mothers of Ryan’s classmates.
I sat at the table speechless. They were each sharing stories of when the teacher said this, or when the class clown got in trouble for that, or how all the kids were complaining about the other.
What?
What is the source of this knowledge?
Girls.
Yep, that is my theory. Girls.
I have noticed in the school hallways that the moms of girls are engaged in conversation.
Conversation!
Conversation, how I long for you.
*snap out of it!*
Anyway, sorry. Last Friday there was an additional act…
Act II:
Holly and Ryan enter the house through the garage from the minivan. Ryan is pulling in his backpack from school. His face is smudged with chocolate.
Holly walks over to the computer to check her email.
Holly: Ryan, I have an email from your teacher.
Ryan: huh?
An email. From your teacher. Your art teacher.
*silence*
*pause for Holly to read*
RYAN. WHAT HAPPENED IN ART TODAY?
nothin.
No. Really. What happened?
*shoulders shrug*
Your teacher sent me this to tell me they had a party for you and two other kids.
Oh ya.
Why did they have a party?
Idonno.
Because your art was chosen to be sent to a state contest?
Oh ya. Mom, can I have a snack?
And this is why you will find me lurking in school hallways eavesdropping on the conversations of little girls…
I find joy in random tid-bits.
Pockets of knowledge are one of my favorite things.
AND nothing is better than a good story.
*God enters laughing*
*rubbing his hands together*
*peering over heaven’s ledge to catch this daily event*
Act I:
Holly finds appropriate cone to pick up second grader from school carline. The minivan doors automatically open and Ryan gets into the back seat tugging at his rolling backpack.
Holly: What did you do in school today?
Ryan: huh?
School. Did you have a nice day?
*silence*
Are you OK? How was school?
ummmm.
Did you have a spelling test?
huh?
Spelling test…did you have one?
I can’t remember.
What about math? Did you do the 100 facts sheets today?
umph.
Huh? Did you have the 100 facts sheets today?
umph.
I can’t hear you. What happened in math?
*silence*
Did you see Caleb at recess?
maybe.
Maybe? Did you or didn’t you see your friend?
Idonno. Mom, can I eat the rest of my lunch?
Holly then turns up the music in the minivan and the two drive home in peace while Ryan sits contently eating his lunch dessert.
Usually this scenario is acted out in one act. I never really thought much about it until I went to a moms night out with some of the mothers of Ryan’s classmates.
I sat at the table speechless. They were each sharing stories of when the teacher said this, or when the class clown got in trouble for that, or how all the kids were complaining about the other.
What?
What is the source of this knowledge?
Girls.
Yep, that is my theory. Girls.
I have noticed in the school hallways that the moms of girls are engaged in conversation.
Conversation!
Conversation, how I long for you.
*snap out of it!*
Anyway, sorry. Last Friday there was an additional act…
Act II:
Holly and Ryan enter the house through the garage from the minivan. Ryan is pulling in his backpack from school. His face is smudged with chocolate.
Holly walks over to the computer to check her email.
Holly: Ryan, I have an email from your teacher.
Ryan: huh?
An email. From your teacher. Your art teacher.
*silence*
*pause for Holly to read*
RYAN. WHAT HAPPENED IN ART TODAY?
nothin.
No. Really. What happened?
*shoulders shrug*
Your teacher sent me this to tell me they had a party for you and two other kids.
Oh ya.
Why did they have a party?
Idonno.
Because your art was chosen to be sent to a state contest?
Oh ya. Mom, can I have a snack?
And this is why you will find me lurking in school hallways eavesdropping on the conversations of little girls…
That’s why you have to be very chummy with girl moms. “Malcolm, why didn’t you tell me the bus was in an accident last week?” Of course, girl moms also know who sneezed in school and how many times.
holy smokes. want to trade kids for a couple of days? my EARS NEED TO REST! my daughter always has something to say and that would be fine except i usually have something to say too!!! my son, by the way, may never talk because he just doesn’t need to.
As the mother of two boys, I am here to tell you the conversations don’t get better. That is, unless you intervene. I finally got my boys to tell me something (please tell me anything, for the love of gawd) when I learned to bombard them with ridiculous questions. If they couldn’t tell me something then, by golly, we were going to make up stuff. Here are some of the questions I used (feel free to improvise and borrow):
Did any wild rats escape on the playground?
Was Miss Rocket (a made up teacher) zooming around the school again?
Did any of the children get locked into cages for the day? Huh? Huh? Did they?
Get the idea? It drove them bat-shit crazy. And made them tell me something so I would leave them alone.
Oh wow! Congratulations to him on that.
Buddy (who’s 7) is the exact same way. He doesn’t seem to remember what happened in school during the day. I’m relieved to read here that some of the other parents know what goes on because they have girls. Whew. That’s a load off – thanks for undertaking this important research for moms of boys everywhere.
This makes me sad. My boys just starting holding steady, almost comprehendable conversations with me, so I dread it will end one day when I become uncool.