And the Town Crier Yelled Out, “The MVP!”

So I picked the boy up from school on Friday afternoon.  He came out of the school building, grinning from ear to ear, and he didn’t stop to wrestle a single male peer to the ground in an exuberant display of his thriving Y chromosome.

I could tell by the look on his face and the lack of a decent pile-driver maneuver to Kellen that things were not going to go my way.

He immediately threw open the Suburban door and shouted out three little letters:

“M!  V!  P!”

Oh, yeah!  I felt the lump of dread rise up.  Hadn’t I just informed y’all a few days ago that eventually I’d be forced to haul out the markers and the glitter and the braided gold tassels so that our family could make a giant poster that highlights the life and times of The Young Jedi Boy?  We had a one-in-fourteen chance to score the MVP title this week.

Nailed it.

I may have some secret powers that I was not formerly aware of, like ESP.

I also completely resisted the urge to yank my hair out by the roots when the boy used OH-SO-VERY-PERMANENT-FOR-AN-ENTIRE-LIFETIME markers to write out that his favorite movie was Reel Steal.

Because listen, people!  It was REAL STEEL.  Real, as in UNFAKE.  And Steel, as in MADE OUT OF METAL PARTS.  Interestingly enough, by switching the vowels, the boy has created a movie that may or may not be about a young orphan who has his fly rod stolen from the local fishing hole, but which indicates nothing about boxing robots.

No matter.

I’d love to pound two thousand words out of the keyboard tonight and tell you about our weekend, but we’re up to our elbows in MVP preparations.  I have no idea how we’ll handle all the work involved for the royal wedding when he finally gets married.

When he’s 35.

Basically, being up to our elbows in MVP preparations means that the poster is done, because I laid down the law and informed the boy that NOTHING ELSE WOULD HAPPEN TODAY, NOT EVEN MEALS OR SCHEDULED POTTY BREAKS until he’d completed his original artwork.  And because the boy knows that Mama has the power to rain on his field day, he was very busy with our limited collection of art supplies on his bedroom floor at 6:30 this morning, and all I have to say is this:  He did a fantastic job!

And Mama was spared from the glitter.

And even the glue.


So MY part in the whole MVP homework situation is this:  I have to write a letter to the boy, which will be sent to school in a secure, sealed and guarded by an undercover agent with an Uzi envelope, so that his teacher can read it out loud to the boy and his classmates later this week.  Either that, or I have to compose a SONG.  Because yes!  Mrs. M did indeed say PLEASE WRITE A LETTER OR COMPOSE A SONG OR POEM ABOUT YOUR MVP, SO THAT I CAN READ IT OUT LOUD TO THE REST OF THE CLASS.

Roses are red,

Violets are blue,

You need to clean your bathroom, Boy,

‘Cause your sink is covered in goo.

Whew.  THAT’S done!

Okay… I’ll put a little more effort into composing something.  It’ll be a letter, because I don’t know the first thing about the key of B-flat or imabic pentameters, but I know all about stringing a thousand words together in a string of nonsensical sentences.  I’ll probably end up bawling here at the computer as I type things like, “Boy, once  upon a time, you were a six-and-a-half-pound scrawny runt who couldn’t breathe, so you and Daddy hopped a  Flight for Life jet and left Mama behind.”  And then I’ll conclude by saying, “And now you’ve FINALLY broken the 70-pound marker you’ve been striving to do for months, and your bathroom looks like it should have a key attached to a giant metal trashcan lid to use on the door.  Because TRUCK STOPS ARE OFTEN CLEANER!”

Happy Sunday night.

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