I signed up to go on Jake’s field trip. Well, the note I actually handed in said if you need me to come I will. I guess they needed me because I was on the schedule. I got a late start and worried that the kids would already be there. But I think that I got to Hopkinton before the bus left the school.
We got the kids into their climbing harnesses and some boy ran up to me and shouted that he had a wedgie. What do you say in response to that? “Thanks for letting me know.”
They divided us up into groups and the day started off well when an eleven year old came up to me and informed me that, “I can burp really loud, if you need to get the attention of the group. It’s my talent.”
“I appreciate that,” I responded, “But I can’t imagine I’ll ever need to use that particular skill.” It is so obvious that I was never an eleven year old boy because I don’t understand them at all.
Because the school has been having lice outbreaks, I was in charge of wiping out the helmet between kids; probably because I acquitted myself so well during my experience with small, icky creatures.
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1 comment:
Eleven year old boys?
No one including other eleven year old boys understand them. They are all unique. As are their parents and their siblings.
We may not need different but we sure have it.
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