Jog-a-thon report

Madhousewife: Girlfriend, are you wearing knee-high socks with your shorts because your legs are cold? Because you can wear long pants if you want to.

Girlfriend: No, Mom. I just like them like this.

Mad: Well, you sure look cute.

GF: No, how about “cool”?

.

So I went to the school jog-a-thon to cheer my daughter on, per her request. I was not there to cheer Mister Bubby on because the fifth-graders ran during the time that I was helping Girlfriend get ready for her bus. (Not that MB needed me there to cheer him on. I think he might have been humiliated if I had done so. He did reassure me afterward that my presence had not been needed at all.) It was a lovely spring day, unseasonably warm for May in Oregon, and what with the athletic-type event on that day’s agenda, Girlfriend decided to wear shorts–her first time ever wearing shorts to school, I think. That’s only significant for the Bitter Irony I’m about to convey in the next part of this anecdote. While waiting for the kindergarten bus to arrive, the kids were “practicing” for the jog-a-thon by running down the street, and GF happened to trip and skin her knees on the sidewalk. (All together now: O bitter irony!) So I had to take her back to the house and patch her up and drive her to school and was very nearly late for my eyebrow waxing appointment. What a tragedy that would have been. My first eyebrow waxing in, what, fifteen years? Anyway, I’m getting off topic. New paragraph!

Despite the number she did on her knees (I just happened to have two very large bandages in stock), GF still managed to run seven laps around the track. That’s 1 3/4 miles, gentle readers. MB had projected that she’d run as many as four laps because that was how much he did in kindergarten, but clearly he underestimated his baby sister’s athletic prowess. The big bad fifth-grader himself only ran eight laps. I say “only” only because watching the kindergarten run has raised the bar significantly in my eyes. It shouldn’t be surprising, actually, that kindergarteners have a lot of energy. MB must have been a lazy kindergartener or something. I don’t know, I wasn’t there. (HA!) Anyway, I’m glad he only ran eight laps because I don’t want to tell you how much he suckered me into pledging per lap. This is what the school gets when I feel guilty for not volunteering.

Speaking of which, when I got to the school and signed in, the secretary automatically gave me a “volunteer” tag instead a “visitor” tag. Maybe she was out of “visitor” tags, who knows? I didn’t let it influence me. Too much. The PTO president did hand me a spray bottle filled with water so I could spray the runners with refreshing coolness as they jogged past. I figured that would be just helpful enough to make my “volunteer” tag not a lie. Let me tell you, most kindergarteners don’t appreciate being sprayed with water, even when they’re running in the hot sun, so I just sort of sprayed the water in the air and let them run into it if they so desired. Most of them dodged it, which I thought was funny since it was probably evaporated by the time they got there. One kid kept coming back to get sprayed again and again. Right in the face. That’s my kind of kindergartener.

.

The Mother’s Day report

A Book About My Mom
By Girlfriend

My mom likes to eat veggies but don’t give her popsicles.

My mom is really good at dancing.

My mom looks pretty when she wears a dress.

My mom likes to play with me.

If I could give my mom something special, it would be a present.

My mom is funny when she plays don’t say a word.

I love my mom because she hugs me.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Dear Mom,

Thank you for playing Monopoly, Bingo, Zingo, Sorry. You make macaroni and cheese. It tastes good. I feel happy with Mom.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Love, Elvis

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Mister Bubby’s Mother’s Day art:

Flaming Feet Giraffe and Nighttime Quagga

Mother’s Day Fish

Advertisements