After the last phone call I received from Holden’s school, I had hoped to NEVER receive another one again. Ever. Never ever ever! I just wanted things to go back to normal, with him being voted “good citizen of the day” (whatever the hell that is) and coming home telling me about what fun times he had and how he made new friends instead of talking about his cafeteria brawl with the lunchbox bandit.
For a little while, I got my wish. Holden was having a great time at school, there was no more thievery or slap fights. Thank cheezus there hadn’t been any stomach bug flying around like I’d heard about at other schools. School was yet again awesome, and I went back to enjoying being down to 1 child for the majority of my weekdays. My brain certainly appreciates it.
It was the day after Holden’s birthday, which also happened to be the day that my Dad planned to take us all out for the boys’ birthdays since he couldn’t make it to their party this weekend. There’s never telling with traffic when he’s going to show up, so I sat with the boys on the couch to pass the time by watching some TV while we waited.
When my cell phone rang, and I glanced at the number (which was not saved in my cell) the first three numbers called out to me as my Stepmother’s phone (yeah yeah, I don’t have it saved. My phone eats numbers!), and thought maybe it was her or my Dad calling to say he or they were running late for this whole dinner shebang we were waiting on.
Typically, I do not take calls from numbers not saved in my phone, but since I assumed this was an electronic flub (wouldn’t be the first time, I am cursed after all) and something that could affect our plans- I answered it without even thinking about it.
There’s a long pause
I cringe at the slaughter of my last name
“This is Holden’s Teacher”
Oh my fuck. What in the hell did that child get himself into NOW?! I feel a giant nervous pit appear in my stomach instantly and my hands start to shake
“Don’t worry. This isn’t a bad call, Holden did nothing wrong… There’s just something he said today that I wanted to talk to you about…”
She seemed incredibly hesitant, which made me even MORE nervous. I know my child, and I know he has a whacked ass crazy imagination and vocabulary to match and if you don’t know him- you’d think he’s sucking on frog’s ass. I had attempted to warn her in the most… discreet… way as I possibly could during open house- but I mean, how do you tell someone who’s never met your kid that they’re a fucking weirdo? That’s not awkward or anything. So yeah, I don’t think she fully comprehended my warning.
“Oh I’m so glad your husband answered. I could never repeat this to him”
Ok, what in the HELL DID MY CHILD SAY, just SPIT IT OUT, WOMAN!
I felt like I was in the finals of American Idol and that frosty-tipped munchkin Seacrest was about to tell me if I’d made it in the top 3 and then instead of calling out a name, pulls that whole “AFTER THIS BREAK!” bullshit. I’d throat-kick that fucker.
“I’m trying to get the exact words right…”
Are you feeling the frustration with me yet? Are ya??
Well, the story she told me went a little something like this:
“Well… Holden asked during class to be excused to the restroom, the one we have at the back of the class, because he had to go number one. So I excuse him, everything is fine. He comes back and five minutes later, I ask all the children, like I usually do, if anyone needs to use the restroom, and if so to line up. Holden gets in line, even though he’d just gone- so I questioned him: ‘Holden, you just went five minutes ago! You don’t need to go AGAIN, do you?’ and that’s when he said to me: ‘But Mrs. Teacher, my pecker feels like it was dipped in hot lava!'”
This may not be very mature of me, but I busted out laughing on the phone with this poor woman, who could hardly get the words out to tell me what he’d said. I was absolutely HORRIFIED, but I could not stop laughing. There was only a little comfort in the fact that she said she almost couldn’t hold back laughter either, but she was concerned. Was it possible he had a UTI?
I look over at Holden, who whines about EVERY-FUCKING-THING, and tell her that he just SAYS things like that. He is a very creative person with a creative vocabulary, and she stops me
“Oh, I’ve noticed”
From there, she goes on for another 20 minutes about the things he says and does in class and legitimately seemed surprised by this odd crotchfruit I have sent to be under her care- even though she has been teaching for a good 20 years or more. She said that on his birthday, she automatically assumed that he was turning 6 because of how “mature” he is compared to the other kids, instead of being the youngest in the class. SNORT! MATURE!
Yes, she meant his MOUTH is mature. ‘Cause she also mentioned that he can’t use a pair of scissors to save his life. Oops. Non-crafty mom fail!
“But please, Mrs. Teacher, I promise I am really really good with computers and I swear I know how to work it. Can I PLEASE play on the computer?”
Yeah… that’s definitely my kid.
I had considered, before school started, to attempt to explain Holdenisms to whomever his teacher might be. To give them a list of examples much like the ones I put in this blog, just so they would have some kind of idea what to expect to come out of him (other than snot and sass) as to not be alarmed WHEN it happens (and yes, I knew it was inevitable)… but how would a list like this go over?
“I just looked at the sun and it melted my brain freeze into liquid”
While in the car, after rolling the window down:
“It’s as cold as a dill pickle!”
“My armpit smells like shampoo”
After the lunchroom debacle:
Me: I heard you drank all the water in your ice pack?
H: Yeah! It tasted like skin fat!
“One day, I will watch SpongeBob again! Mark my words, my name is Holden!”
What do you think? Would that have better prepared a stranger to have a child such as that in their class?
Oh, and in case you’re wondering, I asked Holden WHY he told the teacher that it felt like his pecker was dipped in hot lava… and he told me:
“BECAUSE IT’S FUNNY!”
Well, if that’s not a legit reason, I don’t know what is.
You wouldn't sniff a stranger's butt to see who pooped their pants.... so you probably shouldn't do these other parental things to strangers, either. holdinholden.com/2017/12/weir…
Weird Things you do for your kids but not Strangers goo.gl/fb/oVuwvG
Tis the season! pic.twitter.com/5VgMLnt22E
I am weak pic.twitter.com/LYdRQ6EZcC
You know that feeling when you don't chew a chip all the way and it cuts you all the way down and you swear it's gonna kill you, but you go ahead have another right after? That's what it's like when you decide to have another kid.