For many months, I have been telling man of the house that he needs to have his eyes checked. As always, my suggestion is met with the male guffaw and a mumble about how perfectly fine his eyes are, tenjewberrymudtch.
So who do I spy, here, wearing Master 11′s glasses at the breakfast table, so he could actually read the newspaper?
Hah - you thought I was in the shower. Gotcha!
My son, Mr 11, is a calm, easygoing boy, pretty much a pacifist. So you can imagine my shock when we found out today, via a telephone call from the Vice Principal, that the apprentice was to be suspended from representing the school in AFL tomorrow because he had given the class bully a punch, resulting is what will be a honey of a shiner.
Yep, a black eye, delivered by my dearly beloved fruit of my loins, who won’t even stand on ants.
Further investigation from he who lives here and I, and the story unfolds.
‘C’ is pretty much known for being the class – OK, the whole grade 5 – bully. We are often regaled by tales of C did this, C took someone’s book, C hit me, C tripped Emily… You get the idea. And C has a small group of favourites that he likes to lay claim to victim – Mr 11 being one of those. Apparently today, in an altercation of nothing more than C taking Mr 11′s pencil, Mr 11 decided he had “Just had enough” and balled up his fist, punching him fair in the eye. Rather hard. This was during Chinese, and since the teacher is non English speaking, had no idea what what was even happening or how to intervene. So, both boys – mine, and C (who was in tears), were shepherded up to the office for a right sorting out by our very fair principals.
The outcome, R is to miss AFL tomorrow. C is to also miss out on something. (I am not sure what).
The sparky and I feel it was fair enough he was let off rather lightly. A word with both Principals and his teacher, and we know how they really feel. Seeing R’s very large strong male teacher doing a little ‘happy dance’ (out of R’s sight!) that someone stood up to the bullying, and that it was, of all people, R, was of course off the record. So was his father’s and my reactions – a private little jig that he stood up to someone after what has been a trying year of being bullied and teased. Of course, we did the whole ‘throwing the first punch is not really a good idea… standing up for yourself is a fine thing, but… using words rather than fists is a better way to sort differences…’ but off the record? Onya, mate.
I think he knows this. There’s a slight jaunt in his step tonight.
That’s my boy.
What’s small, personal, carried in a single woman’s luggage, and vibrates if the switch is jiggled?
So, we are taking grandma to the airport and having a laugh at her expense about various things that have happened over the last few weeks, including the Lebanese cucumber. Which she will never live down, I am sure. And The Sparky grabs her bag and hoists it out of the car, and once inside, places it on the table ready to be x-rayed and taken though the scanner on the conveyor belt.
And her bag starts to vibrate. And emit a buzzing sound. And The Sparky raises his eyebrows and simply says “I do NOT want to know – it’s those lesbian things again” and walks away. And I dissolve into giggles and simply crack up and one very red faced grandma unzips her bag to prove to all who are watching that it is, indeed her leg shaver that is buzzing, and not anything suspicious or cucumber like.
