Morning Fog

toe, moe, schmoe

on January 17, 2008

We are reading a book in class. It is full of nonsense rhymes, and the upshot of it is that I am now trying to rhyme everything. Yes I am, yam, dam.
The rhymes in the book are more complicated than that though…higgety, jiggety, wiggety, piggety.
Any wonder why I love teaching first grade so much? I get PAID to do that.

It was a good morning for me. I pulled out the folder of work my son brought home so I could sign it and send it back, and lo and behold, there on top, was a packet of Social Studies tests. He had averaged 97% over several tests (multiple lessons in a chapter.) That put me in a great mood for the whole day. My little guy does fine in school, but doesn’t often bring home things that close to 100% unless it is a spelling/vocabulary test, or the occasional Math paper. So I was higgety jiggeting all day over that — on a Social Studies test. Always the bane of the older two kids’ existences. They are mercurial things, those Social Studies tests.
They are studying all about the Revolutionary War though, and he really seems to dig it. Really gets into the names and the events. And he is sooo phyched that he gets to play Sam Adams in a re-enactment thing they do. Why? He was a BREWER. My child is way tooooo precocious in his knowledge of things alcoholic. Thank the older siblings, I guess. AND when the teacher assigned John Paul Jones to one of his friends, he blurted out “wasn’t he the bass player for Led Zeppelin?” I am sure the teacher was very impressed with that comment. So, alcohol and rock ‘n roll. They grow up so fast, don’t they?

The toe is better, and I’m having doubts as to whether or not it is broken. the pain has subsided to a dull roar, and I can walk without looking crippled, so that is a big improvement over yesterday. Once the pain in my toe lessened, however, I noticed a pain in the ball of my foot, under the big toe. I don’t know…it’s a shame bones are on the inside where you can’t get a good look at them.
Everything inside the skin is a big mystery. It’s a wonder we don’t drive ourselves nuts trying to see what’s going on in there. Although, come to think of it, I suppose some people do. Drive themselves nuts, that is. Never mind.

So, yeah. That just about does it.
Except for a message from Oldest Child, Jolt, asking for his birth certificate so he can get his passport. I think that’s when you realize that your kids are really all grown up — when you cease to be the keeper of the birth certificate. I mean, part of me wants to ask for it back for safe keeping after he uses it, but the other part of me says that, at 23 1/2, he should be able to keep tabs on his own birth certificate, you know? And he probably wants to. I think that is more final than my daughter taking her computer. Probably because most of her clothes and things are still here.
And I still have her birth certificate.

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2 responses to “toe, moe, schmoe

  1. Brian says:

    This year will be the first time I only ‘help’ my oldest with his taxes. Even the mailing address on his return will change this year. Birth certificate can’t be far behind. And he’s nearly the same age as your Jolt. Within a month I’d guess.

    Glad the toe is doing better. Maybe you just bruised the taste out of it. Not like they could put a splint on it anyhow. You’re probably giving it all the care the docs could.

  2. l'empress says:

    For fun in rhyming — not necessarily for first-graders — try a little Cole Porter. “Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it…”

    My kids learned to get copies of their own birth certificates, since we live just a few miles from the city where they were born. I knew they were grown up when I stopped keeping track of their driver’s license numbers.

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