The Sidewinder Sleeps Tonite

A few weeks in the rearview, I asked the Elder Boy how school had been that day. After the initial, 'I don't know' I got a story about some kid's Mom coming to the library for storytime and reading to his class. E thought that was super cool. But what was cooler, once storytime was over, the librarian, Mrs. Nowacki, gave the kid a Lego Bookmark and a Lego Magazine.

"Boy," I said, "I signed up to read to your class at meet the teacher night. I'm reading on October 23."

To say the Boy was excited would be a gross understatement. For the past two weeks he has continually asked, "Daddy, how many days? One or two."

This past Thursday, while getting ready for bath, E again asked, "Daddy, how many days? One or two?"

I'll be honest, at that point, I wasn't really paying attention to his question. I was busy looking at myself in the bathroom mirror for signs of hair loss. Not that it mattered, he didn't need my answer, he was already talking about the kickass Lego Bookmark and Lego Magazine that he was going to get from Mrs. Nowacki. I figured he'd tell me about it at least three times during his bath, which is why I was taken by surprise when he said, "Dad, you're just going to read?"

"Of course I'm going to read. What else would I do? That is why I'm going." I said.

"Dad," he said, "just read."

"Ethan," I said, "I don't understand, (I did of course) that's why I'm going. To read."

Frustrated by my denseness he commanded, "DAD. JUST READ!!!"

Calmly I said, "That is what I'm going to do, just read."

Silence.

The Elder Boy stared at me, trying to discern if I was messing with him or just dense. Finally he pleaded, "Dad, just read. No jokes. Ok?"

Sweetness.

The next night while we were doing the night night book thing I asked, "E, what are we going to bring to storytime at your school? What should I read on Tuedsay?"

I knew what he wanted me to read. He had selected it over a week ago. One book was a non-fiction whale book. I liked it. The second book though, I didn't like. It was this big pop-up type book with very small print. It would be hard for me to read and hold up in front of 40+ kids, so I said, "We should read Walter the Farting Dog."

Silence.

"It will be funny." I said.

Silence.

"The kids will love it." I said.

Silence.

I went back to reading the Star Wars book for nigh night time. Toward the end, E said, "Dad."

"Yes." I answered.

"You can't read Walter the Farting Dog." He said. "Ok?"

Only because it was Friday night, and he needed to go to bed, because I needed to go watch TV and drink beer I said, "Ok Bub. We'll pick something else to read. Don't worry. We'll find something."

We picked Tony's Hard Work Day.

October 23 started cold in Dallas, so cold that before school the Boy(s) and I were huddled together on the sofa watching Fairly Odd Parents. "E," I said, "Today is storytime. I'm reading at your school this afternoon."

Silence.

"So," I continued, "I"m bringing the whale book and Walter the Farting Dog."

"Dad," E said, "We're reading the whale book and Tony's Hard Work Day. You can't read Walter."

"Why?" I asked.

"DAD!" He screamed.

"Why not? It will be funny. Are you afraid Mrs. Nowacki will be mad at us if we read Walter?" I asked.

He gave me a stern look as if the answer was obvious.

"What's she going to do," I asked, "put me on red?"

Silence. (Sweet Mother of all that is good, I said it: Red.)

You see Dear Reader, E's class has a behavior chart that is akin to the Homeland Security Advisory System (I guess Bush and all his cronies really did Learn all they needed to know in Kindergarten.) The Elder Boy is obsessed with that chart and staying on green. So much so, one day, he was at the wrong place at the wrong time and got mixed up in some lunch room shenanigans. The lunch lady in a zero tolerance fit placed everyone in the area on yellow. E freaked. So much so, that Mrs. Green (seriously, that's her name, how awesome is that) gave E the opportunity to earn back his green status before the day ended.

Red is bad. Very bad. You go to the principal if you get on red.

"Dad." He said, gravely shaking his head, "You don't want to be on red."

"Why?" I said.

"Red is bad." He said.

"Come on E, Walter will be funny." I said.

"Mrs. Nowacki won't like it." He said.

"What is she going to do, I'm an adult." I said.

"Dad, she's a teacher." He said

Silence.

Yesterday afternoon I was the guest star parent at storytime at E's school. I read in front of 44 kids. Mrs. Nowacki set me up in a chair, next to a globe and a large atlas while all the kids sat on a large carpet in front of me. Many of them fought to get in front, close to me. Not E. He sat in the very back of the group. He looked nervous.

Once everyone was in their place, Mrs. Nowacki asked E to come up and introduce me to the group, and tell them what we read at home. What we liked. Nervously, E said, "This is...Dad."

Then, silence.

After a few seconds I realized E wasn't going to say anything else, so I jumped in and said, "We dig Star Wars at Casa Tinsley. Do you cats like Star Wars?"

The kids went apeshit.

Later My Lovely Bride, who has an early education degree said, "You really shouldn't ask two kindergarten classes a question like that. They are too young. They'll all talk at once. They don't do very good at question and answers in a large group at that age."

No shit. Thanks for letting me know, Dear.

Mrs. Nowacki and the two teachers saved me though, by clapping their hands and having the kids do this weird repeat chant thing while they all put their hands above their heads. For the rest of my show, whenever I'd get them stirred up (which was often,) that's how the adults brought back order. They would have the kids do weird little chant things while they did stuff with their hands. They did it in unison too. It was bizarre, and funny to me. Reminded me of a cult, which made me think of a particularly bad (read good) joke that I should tell the group.

Only, I didn't. I was an adult.

An adult afraid of being put on red.

Storytime was the last thing of the day so I took E home from school. Since we live so close (we usually walk the block to and fro) I decided to let him ride up front in the passenger seat. After I had him strapped in and secure, with his Lego Bookmark and Lego Magazine in his lap, I said, "So, Boy, How did I do?"

I figured my question would be be met with silence. He was engrossed with his prized Lego Bookmark and Lego Magazine. But it wasn't. Instead he looked over, with what I think was actually pride and said, "Good," giving me this half smile look that reminded me of his Granny, "you did good Dad."

"At least I didn't get put on red." I said as I started the car and drove us home.

Until I BLOG again...A candy bar, a falling star, or a reading of doctor seuss.