Wednesday, September 17, 2014

Trashy Shorts: A Painful Chevron

I took a few hours off of work yesterday morning to attend my 6-year-old’s first official Kindergarten field trip.

I was standing around talking to another parent chaperone, a dad whom I’d only just met but could tell I was going to like immediately based on the following conversation:

Him:  “It’s nice to meet you, but I’m sorry.  I can’t look directly at you because that shirt that you’re wearing physically hurts my eyes.”
Me, smiling and giving an exaggerated curtsy as I took his statement as the compliment that I was certain he’d intended it to be:  “Why, thank you.”

It reminded me of back in the day when I taught 8th grade Spanish and one of the students piped up from the back of the room. Senorita,” he said, “could you tell Aaron to turn down his shirt?  It’s so loud that I can’t hear your really important lecture.”

I’m not sure what I did in a past life to deserve to cross paths with all of the biggest smartasses in this one (I mean, even my damned Venus Fly Trap gets in on the action), but I’m going to try to find out so that I can make sure to keep it up. 

They make life so fun; I'm pretty sure I laugh about 1,000 times each day.  Oh, and don’t worry about me, peeps. I give as good as I get.  :)

1 comment:

  1. Wiseasses make my day. I'd have laughed hard at that comment.