Like a Witch

I can hear my husband's car when it pulls into the driveway.  Maybe I'm tuned into the engine sound because it means a certain division of parenting responsibilities when he enters the house.  Maybe it's because we can eat when he gets home.  Maybe it's because I still kind of like him.

Quinn told me it's because I'm a witch - or a person who hears really well.

Quinnisms: Adult Version

This post is not "Adult Version" in the sense that it is perverse, but because the boy is now officially an adult - according to his birthdays.

I'll have to give you background on this one because otherwise it won't make sense at all.  I've complained about the same phenomena with telemarketers.  You know when you answer the phone and there is a long pause before the telemarketer begins to speak?  And he even might say hello with rising inflection, a manner in which a person typically receiving a phone call might say it.

The other day Quinn answered the phone, then five seconds later slammed it back down and shouted, "I HATE LANDLINES!  PEOPLE NEVER ANSWER THE PHONE WHEN THEY CALL YOU!"

Pennies

On the last day of school, employees at my school typically purge items from their rooms.  I scored a dozen books, various containers, Ziploc bags and stickers of all sorts.  My favorite item?  A bag full of pennies.

"What would I do with a bag of pennies?" wondered the Kindergarten teacher.

"A lot," said I, then scooped it out of her hand.

Top of the Class

Our niece graduated as Salutatorian of her her high school class, with a cumulative GPA of 99.48%.  Congratulations to Laine!

Quinn asked, "What's a Salutatorian?"

We were initially shocked at this recent graduate's ignorance of the term.  Then we realized that his class did not have a Salutatorian or Valedictorian.  It had four "Top of the Class" students.  A friend told me that her daughter's class will have 17 students honored for their academic achievement.

Seriously?!  What happened to winners?  What happened to honoring people who did the best?  Once again, political correctness has gone too far.

So I told my friend that if I were the administrator and was forced to honor the top 17 instead of the best two, I would make them ad lib a single commencement address that required each of those 17 students to say one word at a time.  Each word must build upon the next to form a cohesive, inspiring, emotional send-off for their fellow graduates.

"That's why you're not an administrator," quipped my friend.

Cursive: The New Hieroglyphic

At Quinn's high school graduation, the Valedictorian observed that after learning to write perfect cursive in Second Grade, he and his classmates "never used it again."  We all giggled.

Then today while reading his graduation cards, we laughed hysterically while Quinn tried to decipher well-wishers' signatures.  One example was when he read, "Congratulations from Jo-em and Lunida?"

Jim and Linda, dude.  Jim and Linda.

He's No Fool

Quinn's not that into English or writing, so we were fairly surprised to find a few articles written by him in the local paper.  Apparently, he had joined the CHS Press.  Not that I need to know all the details of his life . . . He reminds me daily that he is eighteen now.

And then we attended the Senior Awards Night.  Oh!  That's why he joined the CHS Press.

Our son, looking like a hobo, with a group of lovely ladies in CHS Press.

Spring Follies

From 'gator hunting in New Orleans to playing Ugly Duckling in Shrek the Musical, Quinn has kept smiling this spring.  And growing.  Just ask his grandmother.

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To My Man Child

In this first in a series of suggestions to you as you grow up:

If you are going to skip school (because you are 18 now and your father signed a permission slip giving you control of "excusing" yourself from high school) and you don't want your mother to know, please clean up your lunch dishes before she gets home from work.

Blah, Blah, Blah

The monthly staff meeting was held this afternoon.  A colleague had called earlier to make sure that I'd be attending.  My response was, "I hope not."  I'm just not a good sitter.  But then I thought I should go because it is the last staff meeting of the year.  And I figured out a way to stream some required trainings through my phone so I could at least be productive.

The first part of the meeting is always the passing of the monthly recognition award from last month's winner to this month's winner.  There's usually some lame prepared speech that someone reads (blah, blah, blah), then the new honoree stands up and both of them cry (blah, blah, blah) and hug (blah, blah, blah).  I was trying to read the small print on the slide show from my phone's screen when I heard last month's recipient say, "(blah, blah) sounding board . . . (blah, blah) always willing to help . . . (blah, blah) wealth of information . . . (blah, blah, blah, blah) - Mrs. Rellim."

I was so embarrassed.  I so do not deserve an award with my current attitude.  And that's what makes it all so funny.  I blushed and smiled and offered a gracious thank you.  But there were no tears or hugs.  That's just lame.