Had lunch at school today with my first-grade son. It’s one of those, “Oh, dad, please come to school for lunch with me!” How sweet, right? And by the way, could you bring me nuggets and fries from McDonald’s when you come? Yeah, sweet.
So we’re having lunch in the cafeteria — nuggets and fries — and we’re sitting at the “visitors’ table.” At his school, when a parent comes for lunch, you sit at a table slightly taller than the munchkin tables the kids use. Thanks! And, as an added bonus and opportunity for your child to score elementary school street cred, your child gets to invite another child to join you both at the bigger table, up front, where all can see and sufficiently envy.
So we’re having lunch already, talking about important first-grade stuff with my son and his TWO friends at the visitors’ table (yes, my son the rule-bender socialite). After some small talk that I don’t remember, friend number one comments that his mom might come to lunch with him one day this week, and then he, too, could have nuggets and fries. Maybe even a Coke. Cool. Friend number two adds that it’s difficult for his mom to have lunch with him since she’s a teacher at the same school in another grade, and her class has lunch in a different time slot. Schedules simply won’t permit a lunchtime rendezvous. Ah, that’s a shame, I say. All three nod in agreement.
Then — and here’s the money — for me, pretty much out of the clear blue, he continues, “And you know, you don’t want to be around my mom when she’s had too much to drink!”
Hello! What? Yeah, he just said that! This cherub-faced little first-grader just ratted out his own mom right there in the cafeteria! Holy cow!
And before I can summon a proper grownup reply, he rolls on, “She can get pret–ty … you know,” again nodding, and now smiling broadly. Whoa! Dude, where’s my video camera?!
Now I’m looking at the other two — my son and friend number one — and neither seems phased whatsoever! Maybe they didn’t hear what he said, but from the looks on their faces it was more like, “Hmm, yeah, parents. Please.”
By now, I’ve managed to muster some semblance of a responsible, respect-your-parents response, and said, “Hey buddy, maybe that’s information you should talk about at home with just your family.” Like, OK fellow parent, I’m trying my best to have your back here.
But then he replies, “Yeah,” as if in agreement, but continues with, “so don’t come over to MY house at night!”
Wow! If this was a movie, the bell would ring right now, and the camera would cut to the mom’s classroom where she would be cheerfully teaching something wholesome! Thankfully, there were only a few awkward minutes left for lunchtime, because what on earth do you say after all that? Besides, I totally could not wait to get out of there and call my wife!
I love my kids! And they’d better never do that to me.
