A couple weeks ago I needed some butter to make cookies. Since it was going to be baked-in, I went for the store brand. I did an absent-minded double take at the packaging, turned the box to and fro in my hands to make sure it was, indeed, what it said it was...made a mental "hmmmmm" then headed to the check out!
Later that night April comes to my room--Mom what's in that box in the fridge?
That blue-n-white one...I was just curious.
Cantcha read? I barely look up from the computer as I answer.
Well, I didn't really look close. I just noticed it quickly...you know how ya do in a hurry.
It's butter...why do you ask?
WHAT? BUTTER! It can't be! (Whining with disappointment)
That box looks too exciting to just have butter in it! I thought it was something good!
I laughed, remembered surveying the package suspiciously.
You know, you're right...it does. What d' you think should be in it?
I don't know...but not BUTTER! I thought you got us a surprise or something...(heading for her own room.
Yeah...but it does look like something cold should be in there...like ice cream or at least chocolate!
Here is the teasing, tantalizing box...in cold 3-D full of butter-sticks it does make one think "Klondike" or at least ice cream.
A half-hour drive to the doc today...sunshine finally! Nostalgia from the radio...singing out loud "Bye bye Miss American Pie, drove my chevy to the levy but the levy was dry...and good ol' boys were drinkin whiskey and rye singin this will be the day that I die.." Suddenly, (just like on Wonder Years) I was back in biology class at John F. Kennedy Jr. High with that formidable Hitler in whose class you could hear an ant sigh. He knew how to lecture and simultaneously play with our heads, let us know how much he despised each! and! every! one of us! When his eyes lit and pierced each of us in turn it was hard to say which of us he thought the most putrid and despicable.
Anyhow, it was lab day and he left classroom (went into a small adjoined supply room) to get slides for us to look at and while he was gone
that American Pie song came playing from somewhere...I asked my lab partner (this wild,
fascinating wavy-haired, tattooed girl who spent most days in the office) if she knew exactly what that song was about hoping
she'd fill in the missing links I didn't get. The teach was gone an unusually long time. Even I had started gabbing. (He'll freak when he hears this music, I thought. In the middle of her explanation the teach returned
announcing that we'd be viewing live sperm and began passing out slides. (The music mysteriously vanished before he came out.) Tattoo girl
immediately busted out laughing, accusing him in a hoarse whisper of having just gone back
there and jacked off for us, so everyone was laughing. She quickly choked out "What a pig!"
Now, I cannot believe he did not hear this; she was one of the only ones who dared ever break
his enforced silence, speak out of turn or interrupt, and her whispers were loud and numerous. I was terrified for her. He
mysteriously chose to ignore it, however, and went on to apologize(!) that there were not enough
slides for everyone. He had become much less caustic. Tolerant almost.
Back then, naive me thought no way...teachers must have access to things like that professionally. But today, I laughed...at my younger self, my stupidity...and how he must have gotten off knowing we were just outside his door there waiting on him.
My kids barely fought today...whatever can the matter be. I could learn to love this.