Monday, November 12, 2012

Tonight at my house it was all about baseball and I'm not talking about the World Series.

*Sorry about the strange grammar issues on the last post. I'd been grading essays all weekend. Apparently, my students are having some issues with basic grammar skills and I am picking them up. I would correct the issues in my post, but I don't want my babies to get a complex. Plus, I don't want them to figure out I'm CTM, because I think some of their parents may be readers.*

Somehow my girl child has come to the conclusion my working with 10th graders full-time equals her very own personalized Precious as it is, Mama don't play that. And when she called me at work to tattle on NJ and said really loud, "Make sure to tell 8th period I'm single and ready to mingle," her appendix almost ruptured. I'm not saying I'm responsible for all that. But I'm not saying I'm not, due to being all powerful

I'm going to pretend NJ didn't just ask me what "salutation" meant on an online form. 


Anywho, my daughter's belief that my employment is her own personal dating site is starting to work to my advantage. As it turns out, one of my students has no motivation to pass to the state standardized test unless he gets to go out with my child. He is not my choice for her because he is NJ at age 15 and I have another boy who knows what a thesis statement is I'd much rather her love. But, he is NJ at 15 and he loves my child with all his little NJ-like heart and the part of me who loves NJ wants her to be the inspiration to succeed my hubby never had. 

Tonight bases and Hispanics were at hot
topics at our casa. Mostly about what
NJ Jr. is allowed to do to my child
without NJ I trying to end his teenage
life. So, now I have to get him to pass a test
and save his life.
Being a teacher is way harder
than I imagined. Pic source
So, I told her to text him a deal. Go to tutoring both days this week and get a three on his essay he has to write before Friday and Lou Lou can hang out with him one day over the Thanksgiving holiday and I will make him chocolate chip cookies the week we come back from break. I also won't sit in the back of whatever location they're at and mace him should he attempt to touch my child.

And he can't go to second base.

Max was listening when I made this statement.

"Mom, what's second base?" he asked in his very innocent 10-year-old way.

I told him under the shirt.

So then he asked, "What's third base? A home run?"

He wasn't the best kid on his baseball team. 


I told him to ask his stepdad.

NJ told him it was just shy of a home run.

He totally got that. 

I'm scared. 

Yet proud. 

But mostly scared because those both laughed deviously. 

And because the boy who loves my child is NJ at age 15.

We are all screwed. 

Yet none of us better get screwed.

Daughters suck.


'Yellow Rose' Jasmine said...

Oh my hell- this all sounds like so much trouble. And you actually threw in a batch of chocolate chip cookies?!

Allenspark Lodge said...

This is very important.

Go to a sporting goods store.

Buy a 12 gauge pump action shotgun.

Buy a cleaning kit.

Be cleaning the shotgun when the boy shows up. Work the action.



Shepherd K said...

So, what would a base on balls be considered?

Laney G said...

I'm not sure how 15 yr old guys are now a days. I know at 15 me as a chick I wasnt really paying attention to guys b/c of where i was in my life. but now a days things have changed. kids evolve so much earlier now a days and thats what sucks.