#194-HOW AM I DOING? YOU TELL ME!

So many of my friends have asked me how I am doing.  I would like to say that thing have reached to point of peaceful coexistence, but things around here are anything but peaceful.

My granddaughter pulls her weight, maybe one day a week.  My great grandkids are like trying to cage a bunch of drunken monkeys.  Toby is a wild man who has learned to extort treats by stealing items and holding on to them ransom until I offer him a treat to give the item to me.  My father sleeps through just about everything (after all he is almost deaf) and when not sleeping laughs (or shakes his head) at all of the antics going on around him .

Here are some things I have said to my youngest great grandchildren (ages 4 and 5)...   (I will use numbers for the great grandchildren to protect the names of the... ahhhhh... .. ...INNOCENT?):

Number 3 son.

Number 4 son.

"#4, take the kitten out of your pants!"

"Yes, #4, I am taking a nap.  Now put my sleeping mask back down."

"#3,  do not hold the ferret by the tail.

To #3, "HE WHAT!  #4 WHY DID YOU PEE ON YOUR BROTHER?

"#3,  if you want to learn a great way to use duct tape, keep talking that way!"

(Thirty minutes after bedtime) "#3 and #4,  the one who is caught horsing around gets to sleep with grandma!"  (dead silence, quickly followed by sleep -  I have used this one frequently)

"#1 through #4, " if I hear the word 'fart' one more time I am going to make you all drink this yucky green stuff to make sure you can't make any!" (as I was holding up a large green bottle of malox)

To #4: "He kicked you in the package?  So, where exactly is this package?" (Picture a 4 year old concentrating and frowning as he considers his answer.) 

To #3: "So, who cares if #4 is staring at you!"

(fight between #3 and #4).  "Ok, guys.  You both got exactly the same toy from McDonalds.  How on earth can you be fighting over which one belongs to who?"

"Yuck, #4, do not kiss the ferret on the mouth....or the mice, or the kitten (oh, forgot to tell you, they now have a kitten), or Toby for that matter."

"#3 and #4, no you can not keep roly-poly bugs as pets. "

To #3 and #4:  "That's not my job.  Get your mother out of bed and make her do it!"

Here are a few sentences I have YELLED at my granddaughter:


(Just today) "LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Please be more careful.  The noodles you poured down the sink drain has stopped the whole thing up.  (She actually tried to convenience me  that she put them down the disposal; even though  I pulled a fist full of whole noodles out of the sink side and the entire drain is stopped up!)

"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  #4 son is taking apart my new vacuum sweeper!" (he's 4)

"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Your ferret is pooping on the door threshold!"

"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Where is the mouse that WAS in THAT cage?"

"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Feed your children."

("SPLASH") "LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  For the 10th time one of the boys did not put the toilet seat down!"

"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  The kids didn't turn off the water out back!  THERE IS A FOOT OF WATER UNDERNEATH THE HOUSE!"  (apparently it was on for a couple of days and took us two hours to pump it out)


"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Your cheese, in the refrigerator, is growing hair!"


"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Wash these damn darned dishes and clean up that room!"


"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  I just stepped in jello!" (Better than stepping in ferret poop!  How do you think I found out it had pooped on the threshold to their rooms?).


"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Someone left the garage door up and Toby got out!"


"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  Someone left the gate open and Toby got out!"


"LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA!  One of your kids is blowing soap bubbles in MY front room!"


(After seeing something rapidl shoot by the window) "LEEEEAAAANNAAAAAAAA! 
 #2 son is shoving #3 son down the handicap ramp, out front, 
in MY FATHER'S NEW WHEEL CHAIR!"

100% TRUE, and this is just the last ten days!


kt 6/14/11

#193-I LAUGH AT MYSELF REGULARLY!

I really don't understand why some people get so angry at jokes which happen to spotlight their particular demographic group.  I managed to laugh at and even tell some very good blonde jokes myself (I was once a blond).  What's the big deal ?  So, just to prove it I am offering these jokes about aging that some of my good friends have been kind enough to send me since I turned 70.   kt    PS:  See answer to, "How are you doing?" this Monday (6/20).

                                        

                                        This would be me before my cataract surgery.  kt

This would be me after my cataract surgery.
(just can't resist an opportunity)   kt

                                        
                                If this were actually my chart there would be a slice
designated for peeing.  kt

I did have something similar happen.  I lost my half slip 

while walking down the side walk.  kt 

Been there done that.  kt

MY SENTIMENTS, EXACTLY!  kt2011  

#192-THE SENSATIONAL SIBLING SKIRMISH

One day, about seven years ago, I was in my son's back yard working on a club house for my grandson, Gene.  I heard a noise and looked up to see him opening his second story bedrooom window.  Curious, I watched as he placed several items on the roof of the kitchen, just below his window.  Then he closed the window and let down the blinds.  I thought this was strange but I shrugged it off and went back to work.

"You haven't seen me!"

Then, I heard the back door slamming and the sound of feet running on gravel.  Gene came tearing round the large storage shed heading toward the back of their property.  He looked up at me as he ran and quietly said, "You haven't seen me!" and kept running.  He disappeared into the pasture behind their property.

"GENE!  I'm gonna KILL you!"

In a few minutes, I heard the back door slamming again.  This time it was Kallie (Gene's older sister).  She paused, looked around and yelled, "GENE!  I'm gonna KILL you!"  She started stomping toward the back of their lot.  As she passed me she asked. "Have you seen that little shit?" Not liking her termonology I started to say something, but the look on her face WAS NOT FRIENDLY, so I just shook my head no.




About 20 miutes later Kallie came stomping back, muttering to herself all the way back to the house.  I didn't see Gene until the next day.  I was told that he didn't come in until supper time where he would have the protection of both his parents.

Apparently Gene and Kallie were having a heated argument about him using her Play Staion II.  Gene was loosing the fight so he took all of her games and hid them.   Apparently the arugment was settled that evening in Kallie's favor.  Thankfully,  she took back her games without bloodshead!
kt2011

#191-MEMORY AND MONTAGE

When reading New Life (thedesertrocks) June 5th post (about remembering names) it caused me to recall a problem I had in my classsroom yearrrrrrrssss ago.

In grade school I was one of those teachers who had to make the students keep their name tags on their desks for at least the first quarter.  Then when I moved to highschool and had different students each hour I had to keep a seating chart handy.

However, I couldn't carry a seating chart around while doing direct instruction or when stopping by desks to check on understanding.  So, I am embarassed to say that  I once had a student whose name was John but, for one full school term I called him Paul.  I tried everything.   I felt so bad that I fined myself one nickle each time I called him Paul.  Prominantly placed on my desk was a fairly large bank that I would deposit the nickel.   At the end of the week I would give Paul John the money in the pot.  At the end of each quarter I would apologize for my inability to call him by his real name.  He would just looked at me, smile and said, "Ms. Taylor, it is fine with me as long as the money keeps rolling in!"        kt

While writing this I received the following GREAT pictures from a friend.  Since I couldn't find  art for this post I thought I would pass some of the cuter ones.  I, also, decided to try to add captions.

Now, Freddie, look me in the eye and tell me again where you were last night, or I'm pulling your ear off.

Hummmm, interesting place to grow flowers. Now, where's the bathroom?  I have to go.

Hold still, Tom,  I have to hold my head just right to zero in on the scent.

Hey fella,  I bit a man on the leg.  What did ya do?

Open up, I know there's food in there somewhere.  I can smell it.

Me first...No me.....Ahhhh, I'm stuck,  move...no you move... ... ...

Hey!  I lost the one you threw.  Will this one do?

Will this trick qualify me for  America's Got Talent?

Turn out the darned lights.  I'm tryin to sleep here!

 I could care less what you think, Bruzer.  I'm not getting up until you say you're sorry.
And you had better say it quickly, because you ate all my GasX.

 You never listen to me, Shadow.  I told you that there was a skunk under here.
 Hoagie, for crying out loud,  just shut up and breathe!

#190- MASTERING MY MASTERS

I have explained to you before that I have had ADHD my entire life.  One of the numerous problems is that this disorder causes memory problems.  Often I was forced to over learn everything and how to severely focus my attention in order to remember something I had to regurgitate on an exam.  I came up with several tricks to trigger my memory.  The following is just one of many.

(I COULDN'T COME UP WITH ART FOR THIS ONE.  

READ ON AND YOU WILL UNDERSTAND).

Studying for my Masters exam caused me some anxiety and a great number of long nights trying to drum information into this brain of mine.

Finally, I came up with a scathingly (I love that word) brilliant idea.  It was noticed by me that I always seemed to remember stuff I wrote on my hand when I couldn’t find a paper.  So, I ran an experiment and wrote my grocery lost on my belly.   Sure enough, when I got to the grocery store I remembered what was on my list and picked up everything (and, back then, I had an ample belly for even very long lists).  There is no way I can begin to explain how this managed to work, it just did.

Therefore, the day before my Masters Exam I wrote all pertinent information (in a shortened form, of course) on my abdomen, my belly, my thighs, my upper arms and, yes, my boobs.  I was sure to write this list on parts of my body that I could not see, because this wasn’t to be used as a cheat sheet just a memory jog.


When a question would come up about best practices I would think belly, and voilà, the information would pop into my mind (so on and so forth).  I was a little paranoid on the way to and from the exam.  What if I was in an accident or something....how on earth would I explain this to the ER people?  Not only that I failed to consider how difficult the magic marker ink might be to remove (it took me 3 days). 

When I left the exam I felt as though I had done a thorough job, but when I, later, talked to my counselor about the results he said that I ACED the exam.  It was a first for them.  When he asked me how I did it I simply said,  "Well, sir,  I studied so hard that the information became as familiar to me as my own body." 

I haven’t used this method since because life does not have written exams.  But, it did prove to myself that I could come up with unique, practical, and successful ways to solve problems, which is a skill all good mothers and teachers need.


POST SCRIPT: I did try to come up with art.  I actually wrote some educational facts on my tummy and photographed it.....well, let me just say that it a sight that no one would ever want to see.  


(By the way, I have a serious problem.  That horrible picture is on my image folder and I .....WANT....IT....OFF!  How on earth does one delete one of those uploaded images?  Why did I even up load it in the first place?  Did I actually consider using it?   STOP SMILING....I'M SERIOUS!)

kt 6/2011

#189-I'M IN A STICKY SITUATION

I found myself in a sticky situation, you see, I have absolutely nothing scheduled for today.  But, luckily, I have this great friend that I met when I first started blogging.  She does not blog, but, she does send me the greatest E-mails.   I thought I would post the last one she sent me...........AREN'T THEY ADORABLE! ! ! ! !

Have you ever seen a baby porcupine?

Fable of the Porcupine 

It was the coldest winter ever.  Many animals died 

because of the cold.  The porcupines, realizing the 

situation, decided to group together.  This way, 

they covered and protected themselves; but, the 

quills of each one wounded their closest companions 

even though they gave off heat to each other. 

After awhile, they decided to distance themselves one 

from the other and they began to die, alone and frozen. 

So they had to make a choice: either accept the quills of 

their companions or disappear from the Earth. 

Wisely, they decided to go back to being together. 

This way they learned to live with the little wounds 

that were caused by the close relationship with 

their companion, but the most important 

part of it, was the heat that came from the 

others. This way they were able to survive.  

Therefore: 

The best relationship is not the one that brings 

together perfect people, but the best is 

when each individual learns to live with 

the imperfections of others and can admire 

the other person's good qualities. 

The Moral of the story!

LEARN TO LOVE THE PRICKS IN YOUR LIFE.

Thanks Clenna!............kt

#188 - AND I SCREAMED INTO THE OFFICER'S FACE...

I was invited to be a guest blogger on professionallyinsanem.blogspot.com.  This gal is so good about helping other bloggers get out there into "bloggerland" and find new friends.  She hosts a lot of giveaways too and is generally a great person to know.  This is the post I sent her:

The 9 year old was at her mother's on picture day.

In the late 1960s I was living in Palm Desert with my husband of 3 years.  At this time I was the mother of my son (from a previous marriage), our daughter and a part time step mother to his two daughters and a third daughter from his ex wife’s previous marriage…..Did you get all of that?  Let me put it another way…there was ours (1+ years), mine (3+ years), theirs (5 and 7), and hers (9).  You know how it goes.  We only had the 3 girls part time, but I was overwhelmed. 

My son, Gene, walked at six months of age.  HOWEVER, my daughter, Patty, didn’t walk until she was 13 months old.  We tried everything but she would just sit down and crawl.  Then, suddenly, she was up, walking around, and changed overnight into the grand explorer.  She got into EVERYTHING. 

The week after the 3 older girls left I went to visit a friend and vent about how exhausting and frustrating it was having 4 kids to wrangle along with the toddler.  Things went fine at my friend’s house.  I only had to pull Patty out of 2 cupboards, from under 1 bed, and off the dining room table twice.  My  son would run to me and appraise me of her activities and I would retrieve her from where ever she wasn’t supposed to be.

Finally, we left for home and I placed them both in the back seat of the car.  There were no seat belts back then, but Gene would stay put and I placed Patty in her car seat.  The child seats, back then, had hooks that went over the back of the car’s seat and looked like a basket with leg holes.  

As I was backing out of my friend’s drive way when Gene started yelling, “SHE’S GETTING OUT OF HER SEAT, SHE’S GETTING OUT!”

At that time I was already pulled half way way into the road and I could see a car coming from the left.  So, I backed all the way to the curb, cramped the wheel and parked.   I was dealing with Patty’s escape from her seat when someone cleared their throat at my window. 

Patty was wailing, Gene was staring, big eyed, at something over my shoulder, and I was already fed up with my day.  So, I flipped around and shrieked, “WHAT?” into the POLICE OFFICER’S face.

Woops!  Sorry, Officer.

Obviously the officer did not have a clue as to the predicament I was in and the jerk issued me a ticket!

Well, I was not about to pay for a ticket, so, the next week I went to court and explained the whole thing to the judge. 

It went something like this…

…With Patty balanced on my hip and Gene clasping my hand I approached the bench (I wasn't stupid, kids are great props). 

Your honor, I have just spent 6 weeks taking care of my 1 year old, my 3 year old, and 3 step children ages  5, 7, and 9.  The 9 year old hates me and  made my life miserable.  The 5 year old bites and we all have the wounds to prove it.  And, my 1 year old is a pistol, (indicating with a nod at the squirming toddler in my arms...I could hear snickers coming from behind me). 

I went on to explain (in high pitch, rapid speech)... "As I was pulling out of a drive way all HELL broke loose (the court room erupted in laughter).  My 1 year old had gotten out of her car seat and fell to the floor.  She was screaming and yelling bloody murder.  My son was yelling warnings of impending disaster and my brain went into overload (by this time the judge was smiling, too).  I had to stop the car immediately in order to see if my daughter was hurt.  So, I quickly backed to the other side of the street and parked.  The vehicle, which turned out to hold a not so understanding police officer, was a block down the street when I started backing out.  The chaos caused by the children caused me to have a momentary mini stroke in the middle of the street, then my brain kicked in, and I parked.  I think I did a good job, under the circumstances."

The judge agreed and dismissed the ticket.

kt 3/2011

SUNDAY'S SONG (What If - Nicole Nordeman)

#187-OMG, WHAT IS WRONG WITH MY MIND?

I RECENTLY LEARNED HOW TO USE Ebay AND THIS WAS ONE OF MY SECOND PURCHASE (we won't talk about my first one).  HOWEVER, I AM A BIT STYMIED.  WHAT ON EARTH IS THAT LITTLE SIDE EGG SHAPED CUP FOR?  (Oh, mannnn, was that supposed to be written "For what on earth is that little side egg shaped cup?" I hate grammar!)  I read the wee instruction booklet and it mentioned nothing about this feature.


ALERT!  ALERT! She's going into one of those weird mental states where she lets her mind fly free.  Run, hide, or read on with caution.  If you choose to read on Don' blame me if you are offended   Better take this seriously as I am about to get gross!


Is that where a little chick sits while it watches it's little siblings in egg hell? (Can't say I didn't warn you!)


I can't believe my mind just came up with that...shudder!   Oh, mannnnn!  Here comes another idea.  What would I do if I cracked one of those hard boiled eggs and found...I can't even bring myself to say it.  Would I throw up?  No, the question would be WHERE would I throw up?


Being too freaked out by what my mind just conjured up I think it best to stop my musings.  Obviously this was not the day to let my mind out of its cage!


I did learn something from this purchase (besides how to bid on Ebay).  The manufacturer suggested using their little pin to pierce the egg so it wouldn't pop during the cooking.
Funny thing is I didn't find their "pin" until I accidentally pricked my finger on it yesterday.
It is imbedded in the black tray beside one of the egg holes.


So, why don't some of you ponder the purpose of the little egg thingy on the side.  To do this you should know that the black bottom is separate from the opaque top and the cooker bottom.  In the meantime I am going to contact the manufacturers and ask them.


(NEVER-MIND: couldn't find the manufacturers on line, THEY APPARENTLY ARE IN SOUTH AMERICA).


Take a "crack" at it and see what you can come up with.  
(Oh, mannnnn, was that supposed to be written, "...and see with what you can come up"... no that still end with a preposition.  Mannnnn!  I give up!).  And, while we are at it, should I have put a period after the parenthesis???
kt 12/2010


 P. S. Since I wrote this piece, the darned thing has bellied up.  It lasted a whole 4 months.  I am never buying on E-Bay again!  


kt 3/12/11

#186-IN THE SPOTLIGHT, TWICE!

Back in the late 80’s I was a teacher and driving fifty minutes, one way, to work.  I had to get up early and occasionally I would encounter a problem that would make me late to school.  Mostly it was deer or ice or snow, but not this day. This day I really tempted fait.

On one old, dark, winter morning my alarm clock malfunctioned.  Normally I am an early riser, but that morning was an exception.  I suddenly awoke with a jolt only to realize that I was going to be late if I didn’t leave IMMEDIATELY.

Scolding myself under my breath, I threw off my pajamas (why I didn’t leave them on I will never understand), dawned a winter coat, grabbed my underwear, a pair of slacks, a shirt, shoes, and socks.   Then like a flash I flew out the door and jumped into my small, red, cold, Ford Escort.  There I was in my freezing cold car, naked under my coat with a pile of clothes heaped in the passenger seat.   I tore off on the long drive to school.  Halfway to my destination my car sputtered and died.  I was out of gas! 

The car lights were like spot
lights zeroing in on me in
the back seat.

It was still pitch dark and I steered my car to the side of the highway.   Cell phones weren’t in my price range yet so I was out of luck there.  I had just passed a gas station a few miles back so I wiggled into the SMALL back seat and proceeded to try and get dressed without the headlights of oncoming cars spotlighting my delicate condition.  

Finally dressed, I left the car and started walking toward the gas station when a pick up truck pulled along side.  The young man driving the truck asked me if I need help.  I told him about running out of gas and he offered to give me a lift.   Shoving the visions of murder and mayhem out of my mind I thought to myself that he looked harmless (isn’t that what they always think).  I got into his truck and he made an immediate U turn away from the gas station.  My heart nearly jumped out of my throat.  I asked him where he was going and he said he had to get a gas can.  I was already hugging the door on the passenger side like a long lost lover, and pondered about how much it would hurt to jump.  However, there I sat with my hand on the door latch anticipating my quick departure and the surely painful rolling stop my body would make.  The truck slowed, then stopped, in front of a shabby house and the man jumped out and ran to the back of another truck (in my mind I was seeing a shotgun or an axe buried in the bed).  What kept me rooted to that seat was either fear or stupidity.  Then, I saw him swing a large gas can out of the bed of the truck and amble back to his vehicle. 

He drove me back to my car and helped me put the gas in.  Then I thanked him profusely and drove back to the gas station to fill up.  By this time I was already late to work and I knew I was in for a major lecture from the principal.

When I arrived in my classroom the teacher’s aide told me that I needed to go to the principal’s office.  That phrase brought back the dreaded memories of hearing that same message when I was a student.  Believe me, it was still able to trigger the same response even as a teacher.  Off I went, mentally rehearsing my story as I walked the long walk to his office.

When I stepped into his office I was greeted by a stern look.  You see, I had been late a few times before and was already treading on thin ice.  I apologized for my lateness and then launched into telling him about my drive to work, all of it, even the part about not being dressed.

He sat there for a while and just stared at me.  Then he motioned to me and said, “Come with me.”  I followed him into the outer office.  There were two secretaries at their desks along with a few of the teachers.  He sat me down on a stool and said, “Now, tell these people your story.  If they believe you then so will I.”

IN THE SPOTLIGHT
AGAIN!

So, I went through the story one more time.  He then said, “Everyone that believes her please raise your hand.”  All hands went up along with a chorus of snickers and comments regarding how it could only happen to me, etc.  He said, “Well, Ms. Taylor you’re off the hook this time.  But, don’t think I will buy something like this a second time,” and he quickly returned to his office.

By the way, when I got back to my classroom I noticed that my knit pants were on wrong side out, my sweater was on backwards, and I had put on two different colored socks.  I won’t even comment on the state of my hair.

kt 5/12/11

SUNDAY'S SONG (Better Than A Hallelujah - Amy Grant)

At first I didn't like this song because I did not understand the lyrics.  What could be better than God hearing us praise Him with a Hallelujah?  But, then I realized it is saying that He loves us no matter who we are or what we are going through.  When we reach out to Him in our darkest hours it is pleasing to Him because we CHOSE Him as our Comforter.  kt

#185-GET READY TO SMILE OR MAYBE EVEN LAUGH.

Clenna sent me this a while back and I wanted to share:

Life really boils down to 2 questions... ... ... 

1.  Should I get a dog... ... ... ?

Or... ... ... 

2.  Should I have children?

Just to let you know...

No matter what situations life throws at you... 

No matter how long and treacherous your journey may seem...

Remember there is a light at the end of the tunnel.

You're laughing aren't you?

That's good 'cause my job here is done!

Have a great day and remember to give thanks...

Cats are so dramatic!

Now that I made you smile, 

pass it on to someone else 

who needs a laugh today!

Author unknown

#184 - NO, GENE, YOU CAN NOT HIT HER!

When my children and I first moved to Missouri in 1976 I was lucky enough to get a job working for the city we moved to.  This small rural town had (and still has) its own electric services and I was hired to work there.  Fortunately for me I had purchased a home across the street from a sweet old judge and his wife (he got me the job).  For a few years I rented out the house I bought in order to have money to fix it up before we moved.  Every summer the kids and I would drive back to Missouri with my mom and dad.  We would spend the summer working on the place, while staying with relatives (or camping out in the house when it house was empty). 

This has practically NOTHING to do with my story, except this is where I was working when I received a call from my 12-year-old son (my daughter was around 8).  (FYI: my son is now 6’ 9” and was very big for his age back then.  Because of his size he was not allowed to hit his sister, or any one else for that matter, under any conditions.)

MOM (me):     (answering phone) City offices, how may I help you?

GENE:            Mom, Patty’s not listening to me.  She has Quackers (a baby duck) in the bathroom and won’t put her outside (plus a list several of her other infractions). 

MOM:            Put her on the phone.           

PATTY:         (Not waiting for her mother to talk) NO, HE’S JUST BEING MEAN!

                       (thunk = the sound of the phone being dropped or more likely being thrown to the floor)

                       (the buzzing sound of a disconnected phone).

MOM:             (answering phone) City Offices, how may I help you?

GENE:            Mom, she’s carrying duck food into the bathroom……. and I can hear the water running …………and she won’t listen to me. 

Can I hit her?

MOM:            NO!  Put her on the phone.

GENE:            (yelling) Mom wants to talk to you!

PATTY:          (a minute or two passes)“TATTLE TALE!”

                        (very LOUD thunk and a boy’s scream….)

(young girl screaming and the Doppler effect of those screams moving away through the house.) 

MOM:            (hanging up the phone and jumping to feet)  Ahhhh, I seem to have an emergency at home.  (hasty exit left)

SCENE:          Upon the arrival of Mom, Gene is found lying on the couch with a cold wash cloth pressed to the top of his head.

                       The area is examined and a knot the size of a small walnut is found to be a prominent 

                       feature on the top of his head.

GENE:            I was sitting on the floor in front of the TV when I handed the phone to Patty.  She yelled, "Tattletale," and then hit me on the top of the head with the receiver.

                        I got to my feet and ran after her, but I was slow getting up and didn't catch her.

MOM:             ( fixing ice pack in kitchen) Patty where are you?

GENE:            (from front room) The little monster locked herself in the bathroom.

ACTION:       (crying can now be heard coming from the bathroom)

MOM:            Patty??????

PATTY:         I’m sorry, Mom, he just made me sooooooo mad!

MOM:            Come on out.

                      (The bathroom door slowly opens and a red faced Patty peeks out)

The rest of the MELODRAMA included the usual lecture and the issuance of the punishment deemed appropriate for the various violations of the house rules.   A cease-fire was declared and Patty was sent to her room.  As for myself I called the office and took the rest of the day off.  I HATE TEACHER DEVELOPMENT DAYS!

I wish I could say that this was the last time my daughter bashed my son on the head.  About a year later she beaned him over the head with a large, metal, antique, pitcher I used for a flower vase.  I don’t remember what the problem was but this time but, in front of her, I gave Gene permission to HIT her.   She NEVER did it again (I knew he would never hit her, but, she didn't). 

kt 3/30/2011