The boy in the Principle's Office...

The principle's office is always full of high-energy and naughty little boys, and won't it always be... 

yet, once upon a time that little boy was mine!

Second grade has been the same for centuries; little girl's mouths' run like diarrhea, and little boys mouths' speak of diarrhea... So wouldn't it be such talk, running from my child's mouth and thankfully not from his rear, landing him into a seat with the dear Mr. Principle. 

Yes, sobbing... as one of his third grade idols from the bus, once shared, "All you have to do is cry, they won't call your mom, and you don't even get in trouble..."

So, one child mixes all their school lunch contaminants and nutritional deficient sludge, together with a straw, and another states an observation of it simply resembling diarrhea... sounds like a normal cafeteria scene to me...

Yet, wouldn't little miss. sludge slopper walk over to the lunch lady, carefully not to trip on her tattletale, and say, "He called my lunch diarrhea!" 

Well, it was a school purchased lunch, so I properly state- it was one step up from diarrhea, like from insect to rodent! 

Still not convinced this was even talk that came from my child's mouth... He was much more expected to say something more farm child-like; looks like a shit pit, farm lagoon, ...liquid manure, something spread from Grandpa's shit-spreader, gutter soup, cow-pie?? Not formal diarrhea! And then, if the conversation didn't continue with... the make and model of Papa's shit spreader, what's broke on it, and which field he was currently spreading on... it wasn't words from my boy, anyway...

To the office for talking about diarrhea at the age of 8... really?

While some ignorant people may be proud when their child goes to the office, and some over-barring types are frantic when their child goes to the office... I, Thank God, they didn't waste a phone call on explaining this one to me, because the conversation would have probably started with; me pushing the talk button long before ready to answer ("SIT DOWN! YOU'RE SMEARING SHIT ALL OVER... NOW IT'S ON YOUR PANTS... WHAT THE HELL DID YOU EAT? ...AND YOU DON'T NEED THE WHOLE ROLL!" then sounds of a flushing toilet, followed by the phone, balanced on my shoulder, smacking the bathroom tile...) 

And then a simple throat clearing, on cue,  "Hello?"

Principle:  "Mrs. Hackett we have your son in the office over a disturbing case of diarrhea..." 

Mama: "Are you shittin' me? I told him a mixing bowl of Raisin Bran was not for school mornings! I even made him a waffle...So, I suppose he won't wear the Nurse's spear sweatpants, and now what... I gotta make another special trip for pants and he thinks he needs a Gatorade?"

Principle:  "No ma'am! He doesn't have diarrhea... He used poor language choices, like speaking of diarrhea... and inappropriately at a time of lunch.  

Mama: GET OVER HERE! GET THAT OUT OF YOUR MOUTH... SPIT IT OUT! NO WONDER YOU'RE SHITTING LIKE A GOOSE... QUIT EATING PLANT DIRT!

(Then, sound of phone hitting floor again, because my hand is instinctively held out to catch child number three's spitting debris)  "What? Did you say...he said the word, "diarrhea?"  Hu? Not the runs... squirts, or craps, ...shits? But, properly spoke no slander, no swearing? Yes I am proud..."  But, we gotta make this quick- I gotta cramp in my neck, another brewing in the gut, and I can't fold laundry one handed, while the other holds a mixture of toddler spit, plant dirt, and a half-chewed fruit snack... it looks like diarrhea!  But, really thanks for nothing..." 

Fortunately, no one called on this bad case of diarrhea... instead I received this letter home about it...

Whats that... oh, you can't read it?  Yes, that was the plan of my intelligent offspring...

Shear brilliance!

Cry in the office, snatch marker from teacher's desk, complete scribble mission tucked into bus seat! 

The boy doesn't need detention, he needs a certificate of achievement! 

It wasn't a case of diarrhea at all... looked more like my 8 year old boy had simply started his period, and no better explanation was found anywhere in his head for the massive red blotch to make me believe otherwise.  

"What's this, bud...?"

"Oh that... just a red dot!"



Yep a red dot... covering the entire teacher comments section of his agenda, and in the same color as her initials on the previous page... hu?

Further investigation found the teacher's red marker in his book bag, and his pants a bit squirmy when I threatened to call the teacher and ask about his period.

"What does this say, bud?"

"It doesn't say anything... see it's just red marker!"

"What did it say under all this, at one time, before you scribbled it out wit a red marker?

Then he caved... Reciting beautifully in full sentences, and closing with "I hope tomorrow will be a better day... A full paragraph of brilliant crap... sounded legit, and I bought it! 

It mentioned nothing of the real case; no principle's office, nor diarrhea...

It wasn't until the next day, the teacher shared the real writing... then I shared with him he soooo could have got out of this one easy... Going to the office over saying diarrhea...well, that's crap...like runny diarrhea crap, bud... Mom's not even worried, but lying to your mother about it- now, you went and created a problem, child!

You're in more trouble than if you ate gas station pizza, with a warm milkshake,

wearing a button fly on your jeans,

and thrown into an out of order bathroom...

Yeah, still want to talk about diarrhea, boy?