If I Get Fired One Day, I'll Blame It On My 5-Year-Old

As I mentioned earlier this week my son is a stinker (and not always in the literal sense). Each day, our school (where John and I work) dismisses a few minutes prior to John-Heath’s school. This gives one of us the chance to pick him up, though he would gladly give his eye teeth to ride the school bus. To kids who are normally car-riders the school bus is just something awesome I suppose. As a former child who had to ride the bus, I could go the rest of my life without riding on another one and not be sad. The sticky floors, cramped seating, uncomfortable chill in the winter and putrid smells, depending on who your seat-mate is, in the summer - to this I say, “No thanks.” But back to my story...

After John or I pick him up we will most always return to our school to complete some unfinished business. I tutor in the library after hours and John has lessons to make, papers to grade, and grades to enter into grade books (both print and electronic ones). Because of this, John-Heath is able to visit our school every day. His presence rarely goes unnoticed.

First, he must make the rounds and say hello to everyone. He might stop in to see the ladies in the office or check out how things are going with certain teachers, especially those who happen to keep toys or candy in their cabinets. I’d like to say my son is just friendly and never has a hidden agenda but I think some visits might be prompted by the lure of Legos and Hersheys.

After securing a snack, he checks the t.v. monitors in the principal’s office to make sure the security cameras are still working properly. Apparently, he considers this his “job”. From time to time he’ll also swipe some piece of fruit from a basket while he’s there.

The custodians are busy cleaning on our end of the building at this time of day, so he always stops to see how they’re coming along. And, at times, he even pitches in. Just the other day he came home after spending some time with one of these ladies and swept out our garage and then went and cleaned his playroom. John mentioned that if this keeps up we’ll have to put someone of the payroll.

But his favorite person to visit in the entire building is our assistant principal. He’ll usually greet him with a barrage of questions about his job, the building (ours is comprised of two main wings and John-Heath is fascinated with this, so he is always asking something about the north wing or the south wing, and it doesn’t help that the south wing is thought by some to be haunted), the school buses, or any other topic that makes its way from his brain to his mouth. Typically, if he’s not in the library with me or in John’s rooms with him, he is apt to be found following around behind the number #2 man.

John-Heath loves to hide. At home, if one of us returns from having been out he will hide and make the other tell that he has “left home” or “run away”. Then when the one of us that has just returned starts to bemoan the fact that he has gone, he will jump out to surprise us.

This past week, he decided it would be funny to surprise one of the men who evaluates me each year. As it was recounted to us, the ass’t principal was at his desk working when a desk drawer ever so slowly opened. Busy working, he (the AP) took his knee and pushed it back in. A moment later the same drawer slowly opened again. Thinking what is up with this drawer he investigated - only to find a small boy, and not a ghost, hidden underneath his desk

We’re just hoping that when he gets a little older, say in about 5 or 6 more years, he won’t be spending too much time on the other side of that desk.

It's That Time Again

Our front porch pre-makeover, circa Easter 2010

Yes, friends, it is that time of year again. A time when the friends of your teenage daughter volunteer their free makeover services. A time when your once neat, lovely home and yard metamorphosizes, by way of a long held tradition known in this neck of the woods as "rolling", into what you see below. By the way, for those of you who may be reading this from outside the south or Middle Tennessee, I'd like to ask if this is something that is done where you live?

Yes, we have finally been hit. Honestly, I was beginning to wonder whether or not we were still on anyone's radar. You see, most of the kids in our town who do this sort of thing only do it to people they like. You're probably thinking I'd hate to see what they do to someone they dislike.
But to do the job right takes money (have you any idea how much 80 rolls of toilet paper costs?)and who wants to spend their money on someone they don't like. Anyway, October may be the season of the witch for some but around here it takes on a whole other meaning. And it has to be done in October. To do it in any other month would be rude and uncouth.

The crew who came out this year are frequent visitors to our home, both at times when they are invited and, just as often, when they're not. They are classmates of my daughter and were John's students a few years back.

When they dropped by last year Ren missed out on most of it. Her room is upstairs and she was so soundly asleep that the ringing of the front doorbell and the beating on the back doors failed to wake her.

This year, she was ready. She had an idea they would hit on the night of the football homecoming game (one of the guys was having a sleepover for his birthday, though I don't think guys call it a sleepover) so she slept on the couch.

At a little past 3:30 on Saturday morning (Yes! 3:30 A.M.) the ringing of the bells began.

Ren slipped out the front door. John slipped out the back. And, eventually, the perpetrators we caught.

But, as you can see, they did a very thorough job prior to being rounded up.

They covered anything and everything they could get to. They also booby-trapped the place. See the strategically placed rocker in front of the door? This was done, I'm sure, because last year John took chase after the guys running quite fast -for an old guy- out this same door.

Forking yards is also big this year. I told Ren I was going to collect these and use them the next time her friends came over for a party.

Now, newcomers to the art of rolling might think a name brand tissue is required to do a good job. Quite the opposite is true. Those thick, fuzzy papers just don't unroll as good as the cheap stuff.


This group of guys came prepared. As our house sits on a 5 acre lot (which is part of a larger farm), they knew they would need to be able to communicate should they have to scatter.


Nothing was safe. Not the rockers!


Nor the soccer ball!


Not even a 5-year-old's playfort.

The following morning, John-Heath admires the artwork.

This post is a participant in Metamorphosis Mondays.

News to Share

Well, I have found out something that is not going to be easy to share. Therefore, I thought I might ease my way into it by first posting it here - kind of a practice run.


I will turn 40 in just a couple weeks. This celebratory day of my birth will be followed with another birth day in a few more months - roughly 7 1/2 more months. It seems that John-Heath's tenure as the baby in our family will be coming to an end.


I don't know who I dread telling more - John, Ren (she'll be mortified, much as my sister was at age 16 finding out that I was on the way), my mother (she was none too happy when John-Heath's impending arrival was announced, though she loves him more than the world now), or just total strangers who are sure to make remarks as to what a cute grandchild I have.


I do know that before anyone gets told anything I am making a date with Clairol tonight. If I'm going to be toting around a baby I need to look somewhat the part.

P.S. I hope you all enjoy this most wonderful first day of April. Insert wink here.