He is Blessed With the Gift of Gabbing


I have absolutely NOTHING to write for y’all, but at least no one will have to take an Ambien tonight, if they keep reading, because this blog post?  Guaranteed to be a real snooze fest.

All I can report tonight is that Hubs and I sat through the boy’s first parent-teacher conference of the 5th grade, and we honestly hope that God blesses Mrs. M from head to toe.  We are head over heels in love with her, even after she sat across from us at a table surrounded by chairs designed for Oompa Loompas and said, “That boy of yours is smart as a whip.  As in, WICKED SMART.  Scary smart.  His deep-thinking and his ability to grasp concepts is amazing.  But, for the love of all that is holy, if he doesn’t learn to SIT AT HIS DESK and QUIT TALKING TO KELLEN ALL DAY LONG, I  may have to tie him up and smack some duct tape across his mouth.”

We gave her our blessings to do just that.

Mrs. M gave us the same report that every teacher gives us, year after year.  The boy is a great kid.  He’s brilliant.  His desk is a complete disaster that is on equal footing with a black hole, where assignments and pencils and live rodents are LOST.  He’s been caught a couple of times reading a Garfield book during math class.  And he’s so social, he pretty much has to sit across the room from every friend he has, so that the teacher can get something taught to the class without hearing him whispering about Legos or propane torches to someone else.

Someone else, who is usually Kellen.

At the moment, Mrs. M has the boy’s desk in the corner of the classroom, on the VERY FAR SIDE OF THE ROOM.  Kellen sits on the FAR OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE ROOM.  She said she had enormous hopes that this would help his socialization issue, and then she caught on to the small fact that the boy and Kellen were both using the bathroom passes at the same time, so that they could exit the classroom and carry on in-depth conversations down the hall, under the guise of washing their hands.  She also warned us tonight that she’s not above marching into the boys’ bathroom to drag them out, if she has to.

I have NO IDEA where the boy gets his ability to talk like he does.  No idea whatsoever.

Happy Thursday night, people.

And y’all are PLUM WELCOME, seeing as how I just saved you a chunk of change that you didn’t have to spend on sleep aides tonight.  But, before I officially sign off, I’ll leave you with some old snapshots.  They’re pictures of the boy and Kellen, from yesteryear, when they were cute and adorable.

And really?

They both talked nonstop to one another EVEN THEN!


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