Crazy-Pops

Back to our regularly scheduled comedy:

Like I said on Tuesday, I've been spending a lot of time at the Mixmaster's school. A LOT of time. Because, well, I have an anxious child. And he has trouble in certain situations. And, well, before you get to thinking that the situation is dire and that my kid's never going to make it out of first grade because he can't read or write or add, let me assure you that's not the case. No, my kid is doing fine where it counts: In reading, writing, and adding. Where he's not doing fine? The lunchroom. There, I said it. My kid is the one kid who, as soon as the lunch bell rings, starts crying. Because he's afraid of the lunchroom. He's also got a problem with gym class, but it's not as big a problem, because who the hell actually likes gym class when they're 6 years old, right? I sure didn't. Heck, when I was a kid, I played one season of little league baseball and never swung the bat because I was too afraid. So we know where the Mixmaster gets it from. And honestly, if the two major things that give my kid problems are lunch and PE, I think that's pretty good. It could be a lot worse.

But I digress. So while the 200 other 6, 7 and 8 year olds are crowding into the lunch room with all their friends, making all kinds of noise, being boisterous like only little kids can, my kid's freaking out because it's so noisy. He's always been a little sensitive to noise. And so, on his first day back in August, M (I'm getting tired of typing "The Mixmaster") ate his lunch in the school office, by himself. And so, subsequently, ever since then, for the past 6 weeks give or take, I've been walking over to his school with my own sack lunch and eating with him, Monday through Friday. I don't really mind, but it does play havoc with my schedule because I can't take any meetings in the middle of the day anymore. And we have been working on seperating more and more and eventually I'll stop going. And, being the super intelligent father that I am who doesn't have to resort to tricks, as soon as he can eat without me he gets to watch "Star Wars IV" AND he gets some trains. Parenting, my friends, is all about bribery.

But that's not the point of this story. That's just an uber-long setup. And if you're still reading, congratulate yourself for your stamina and resilience. And now, here, in Act III of this blog post, comes the comedy:

One day a week ago, it was going to be quite nice outside, according to the Denver Post. So I awoke, dressed my kids, made their lunch, and sent them off to school. Then, around 11:00, I dressed myself in my green plaid shorts, my yellow t-shirt, and my black sandals. Yes, it's a weird combination, but it looks good (if a 42 year old engineering geek knows what looks good, anyway - hahahaha!) and it's important to the story. So I walk over to see the Mixmaster and we grab our lunches and we sit down to eat. After we're done eating, we walk out to the playground to find a swing for him and a place for me to return phone calls (it's what I do at that time) and one of his friends walks up to us and says, "Hey, you look the same!" I look over at M, and guess what he's wearing? C'mon, guess! Yep - he's wearing green plaid shorts, a yellow t-shirt, and black freaking sandals. It was, in a moment, hilarious and creepy at the same time. Because I really don't pay attention to how I dress the boys, as long as they pseudo-match, and if you know me you know that I typically dress in whatever's clean, so the fact that I came up with same bizarre combination of clothes for me and my son says....um....I'm not sure what it says. But I felt like a dork standing in the hallways of an elementary school dressed the same as my kid. Like we planned it or something. And, really, when can you ever feel like a dork around a bunch of 6 year olds? That's an accomplishment.