Dinner conversations used to be so different in our house. It used to be that Kevin would come home from work and ask me how my day went and I’d tell him, “Fine. Yesterday I made a student throw away the latte he was sneak-drinking in my class, and today I was greeted by the student’s mother, the vice principal, and a representative from the NAACP who wanted me to explain my actions.”*
Or Kevin would ask how my day went and I’d tell him, “Fine. One student stole a box of Good ‘n Plenties from another student and would have gotten away with it had she not stashed the box in her pants and left a trail of pink and white pellets everywhere she went.”**
Or Kevin would ask how my day went and I’d tell him, “Fine. At the dress rehearsal for my students’ play today, the main character nearly mooned the audience of students, teachers, and parents, and he changed one of the lines about falling in love to instead be about having a boner.”***
Now when Kevin asks how my day went, my stories are…well…I’m not sure what word best summarizes it. I’ll show instead of tell.
Kevin: So, how was your day?
Me: Fine. Today Vincenzo was pretending two skeletons were ninja turtles and I was two little Noahs (i.e. Lego guys). Little Noah 1 was all, “Hey, ninja turtles. You should eat more. You’re all skin-and-bone!” Little Noah 2 was all, “Heh, heh.” The ninja turtles explained they had been eating lots; they were just eating all white things.
All four went on a vacation to Africa, where the ninja turtles started digging a hole for a tomb, as they were, it was explained, extremely good and fast diggers. A dust storm came and buried the two Noahs. The two Noahs appealed to the ninja turtles for help, as the ninja turtles were known to be extremely good and fast diggers, but the ninja turtles pretended not to hear. The Noahs started slowly digging themselves out of the tomb (i.e. I got a 10 minute break) and finally made it out, where the ninja turtles were testing out their new dust machine. The Noahs made fun of the ninja turtles, saying no one in Africa would want to buy a dust machine—it would be like selling a rain machine in Seattle. The ninja turtles immediately began warning the Noahs not to bring any rain machine near their tomb hole because it would make it slippery.
The Noahs decided to end their friendship with the ninja turtles and they went in search of new friends. They climbed Baby Mountain which, they were informed, was actually a volcano, but the Noahs realized it was a sleeping volcano and they had nothing to fear. They knocked on the Baby Mountain’s face door. This conversation followed:
Noah 1: No one’s home.
Noah 2: But I can see the baby. I’m looking at its eyes right now!
Noah 1: Yes, but I mean the other kind of no one’s home—like “the lights are on, but no one’s home.”
Noah 2: Oh. Well look, there’s his arm. Maybe we could get him to sign this paper saying he’s our friend.
[Noah 1 moved baby’s hand on the pretend paper]
Having secured their first friend, they continued their journey northward to my face.
Noah 1: Hi. Are you the person who’s making us talk?
Noah 1: Then you’ll be our friend, right?
Me: I don’t know…I’ve been listening to you two for awhile and I think you’re kind of shady characters…”
Noah 1: But we can’t think of anyone else. Here, just sign this paper.
Me: Well, if you insist. [I signed paper]
Noah 1: HA! We tricked you! You just bought one of our rain machines and signed up for one year of rain!
Noah 2: Check’s in the mail!
Noah 2: Sucker!
The game ended several scenarios later when one of the Noahs had to go potty and the ninja turtles offered to build a bathroom, then added, “It should just take about two years…”
So…how was your day?
**Also true story.
***Also true story. Sigh.