3 Strikes?

Do you think if you spill food or drink on yourself three different times during the day (or morning, really) you should be able to leave work and go home?

I feel like the only thing I have accomplished today is giving the high school girls I teach something to laugh about. I couldn't write on the board (how hard can it be to write "work"), couldn't come up with words ("Now what is that word that means something like assimilate?"), and spilled diet coke down my sweater. At least they enjoyed class...

Obi Wan returns

Everyone who reads this blog knows that my Sonny Boy (age 13) thinks he is the coolest person around. Being so cool, when he needed a new jacket, it had to be a fleece hoodie from Old Navy. Supposedly, brown is the coolest color right now. So Sonny Boy is constantly to be seen in the brown hoodie, usually with the hood pulled up and hiding a good portion of his face.

Since I fancy myself something of a Lorelai Gilmore, I have taken to calling him Obi Wan. We were in the grocery store the other night and he was dragging behind, so I loudly called, "Hey Obi Wan, catch up!" I would not normally provide so much entertainment for the masses, but the opportunity to embarrass my kid was too great to resist.

Last night Obi and I went to a women's college bball game (my school versus a local one in Gboro). Not a big crowd, so Sonny Boy spotted his least favorite teacher from last year across the stands. I acted like we were going over to say hi at half time. The hood then came up and would not be removed. As we were leaving the gym later, I made sure to walk very quickly and was only about 2 feet behind said teacher. Obi was really dragging his feet and hanging his head under his hoodie, hoping she would not notice him. I had no intention of speaking to her (at one point last year I called her - not to her face - a dried up ol' prune) - but I had a blast freaking out Sonny Boy. He thinks his Obi Wan imitation saved him, but the Force was really with me and not the cool hoodie.