Today was very important for Kid D. He woke up vibrating with excitement and secrecy. He put on his best dress shirt and tie. He has been working hard for weeks preparing for a very special Mother’s Day Tea, which his first grade class held this morning. It was a Very Big Deal.
Since I was invited and all, I got
out of my pajamas dressed up and headed over to the elementary school for the festivities. Every year the first graders put on this show in order to make their moms get all sappy and sentimental and to watch them cry in public. I mean, they play “Wind Beneath My Wings” as background music, for cripe’s sake. There is always plenty of sweetness and love and lemon pound cake and itchy dress clothes and video cameras and it is just totally awesome.
This year did not disappoint. One smooth operator wore a tuxedo! The kids all sang “Puff the Magic Dragon,” which is a much sadder song than I ever remembered (P.S. I looked up Honah Lee and it is a fake place. I’m bummed.) They also each wrote and read aloud a poem with the theme “I Love You More Than…” The kids this year included standard things like “video games,” “the chocolate chip pancakes you made me for my birthday,” “our trip to Disney World,” and “our dog, Mutley.” But my favorite this year was when one little blonde girl said “I Love You More Than… Dad.” I couldn’t help but laugh out loud, even though I don’t think she actually meant to say that. It was part of another sentence or something but the way it actually came out was truly awesome. I wanted my kid to say that.
There were little notes and drawings and pictures talking about moms posted all around the classroom. There was a whole wall of mom portraits obviously drawn by the kids. For some reason, we all looked very angry in those renderings with scowls on our faces and nobody could tell which one was supposed to be them, but they were still cool. Then there were these Runaway Bunny-style short sentences. You know the book by the Goodnight Moon lady that has a petulant little bunny rabbit who tries to leave his mommy and every time he says he’s going to morph into something to get away (a rock on a mountain, a fish in a stream, a sailboat), his mother always adapts into something that can catch him (a mountain climber, a fisherman, the wind).
This was Kid D’s version:
Well, hmmmm. Now most of us are well-versed in baseball metaphors. With that in mind, his project seems dirty, right? I will acknowledge that my brain has permanently set up camp in the gutter but this seems pretty wrong. It actually sounds like something Sheepdog said to me just last week. I can tell you emphatically that baseball to Kid D is just baseball, but with his father being straight outta West Virginia he can’t be playing fast and loose with words like that.
Wish me luck for tomorrow…