If I Only Had a Clone

Remember the movie Multiplicity with Michael Keaton?  Over the past two weeks, I know why he embraced the philosophy of having many clones.

I would like just one clone.  Stat.

It has been unbelievably busy lately.  I mean non-stop busy.  I have decided the way that would have been the easiest would be to have a clone.

Many me.

I would have my clone take my place as National Honor Society adviser.  I could have celebrated with the newly members while my clone could have eased the pains and wiped the tears of the 15 who did not get in.

I would have my clone go to Walmart.  I hate going there, and it is almost a festival of clones there anyhow.  I would have hung out and read books with Squishy or played String Bean in a round of Mario Kart.

I would have my clone sit through long meetings.  She could sit there, smiling at all the information that would have been better off in an email while I would get my copies ready for the morning’s classes.

I would have my clone fix technology for everyone.  My clone could go and fix a computer for two hours while I ventured to the park for a nice walk.

I would have my clone conference with String Bean’s teacher.  My clone may be better at this than I am because she would not be so frustrated.  I would get a massage – to calm down, of course.

I would have my clone grade freshmen English persuasive essays.  I would give her a purple pen (it is less threatening) and have her go to town.  She would not feel pained as the students leave the classroom and dump the carefully graded essays in the garbage after glancing briefly at the score.

I would have my clone go bathing suit shopping.  She could have the honor of trying on a variety of suits and finding the perfect one all while standing under harsh, fluorescent lights.  I would sit and read  Stephen King’s new novel on my Kindle.

I would have my clone update my Facebook, reply to text messages, fetch my lunch, get allergy shots, pay bills, go shopping, feed the dogs, clean my closet and pretty much do everything that has piled up from The Captain’s musical and break.  During this time, I would have been able to write on my much-neglected blog.

If I only had a clone.

Open House and the Big Fart

I rushed into open house at Squishy’s elementary school last spring with a sense of trepidation.  It was the middle of our March Madness. First, The Captain was one week from the opening of Thoroughly Modern Millie at his high school (he directed, I choreographed).  Also, spring baseball had started for both boys, and finally, all three of the dudes I live with were in rehearsal for the Wizard of Oz.  Needless to say, I was a human taxi cab and the Open House became one of four stops that evening.

After finding a place to park (because this is not easy on Open House evening), I finally had the chance to get a good look at Squishy.  He had chocolate ice cream all down the front of his white Life is Good t-shirt.  Awesome.

“Squishy, did Grandma really have to give you ice cream the second before I picked you up?” I asked as I took his incredibly sticky hand in mine.

“Mom, I wanted it and she gave it to me. Geez.  I was hungry, but now I want a Star Wars book from the book fair and a brownie,” he replied, quite sure of his goals for the Open House.

“I don’t think so,” I said as we continued through the door.

Squishy dropped my hand and ran down the hall like lightening.  I was hustling behind him, bumping into the massive herd of parents in the hallway.

“Wait up,” I called to him, as I tried to put on a very fake “I have everything under control and my life is really a dream” smile for the parents who turned their heads to look at me.

“I am trying to catch up with you, sweetheart!” I stated to him in an as pleasant as I could get, sing-song voice.

“Mom, you are so slow,” he hollered down the hallway, “Oh, and I farted.  Safety!”

Awesome.  Now my kindergartener has yelled “fart” across a crowed hallway.

But it gets better.  It always does.  A guy I dated for a long while BC – Before Captain, Before Children – was standing nearby with his absolutely beautiful, poster-like family.  And he was smirking.  Did I mention it always gets better?

My fake smile turned into gritted teeth.  My posture changed to that of a wild animal.  My hair turned into the snakes of Medusa.  I smirked back while briskly walking by and said, “Hi there.  Gotta catch up with my little man!”

Secretly, I kind of hoped that the fart would linger and bring the idyllic family to its knees.  That would be awesome.

A picture is worth 1,000 words. This photo was taken at the open house.

When Children Learn to Read

Or, what really happens now that my children are reading.

My seven-year-old, Squishy, loves to read.  He is at the point where he reads everything. He will read over my shoulder.  He will read labels.  He will read t-shirts.  He will read basically anything.

There is a fun print my sister-in-law gave The Captain for his birthday.  He likes to make (and drink) martinis.  Squishy now knows how to: 1.  Say martini and 2. Spell martini.

Squishy has become a reading machine.

He also likes to read over my shoulder while I am on my Kindle.

“Mom, what the crap is wrong with this lady?”

“What lady?” I ask, “and don’t say crap.”

“The lady in your book named Anne.  She is a freak.”

I am reading about Anne Boleyn.  “She is not a freak, Squishy, she just had some issues.”

“Like what?” he asks as I wonder briefly how far to take this.

“She was married to a famous king of England and it didn’t end well for her,” I strategically answered.

“Why?  Is his name Henry?”

“How do you know that?” I asked.

“I read it over your shoulder,” he grinned triumphantly, “See ya, I am going outside, OK Mom?”

“Sounds like a plan,” I answered.

Yesterday, heading for a quick grocery store stop, Squishy said, “Mom, the truck next to us has a bad word on a sticker.”

“What does it say?” I asked, trying to navigate through the zillion traffic lights in our small town.

“Will I get in trouble if I say it?” he asked.

“Just read it to me,” I said, with the patience and kindness of a women with mild road rage.

“Bad ass,” he said, “It says bad ass.  Why is he a bad ass, Mom?  He doesn’t look like a bad ass.”

“OK,” I said, using the mom voice, “You can stop saying it now.”

“Well, he doesn’t look like one anyway…Hey, Mom, the sign over there says not to text and drive.  And that one says the service begins at 10, and that one says…”  And so on, and so on.

I think I may need that martini.  Stat.

Shark Tag

String Bean came home yesterday and informed me about a new game they play at recess called Shark Attack Tag.

Good thing these sharks stay in the tank!

Shark Tag is similar to the game of tag, but apparently there are rules pertaining to sharks.  I asked him if biting was one of the rules, and he said no.  I asked him if they had to run around miming a shark fin on their heads, and he said no.  I asked him if they hummed the music to Jaws while running, and he said no.  I asked him what is the big deal about Shark Tag, and he said you can tag lots of people to be “it” with you.  Oh.

I had a vision of many kids on the playground singing Jimmy Buffet “Fins to the left, fins to the right,” gleefully tagging other kids to join in song.  I must stop watching Glee.

The subject of Shark Tag was ironic also in the fact that Laughing at Everyday Life tagged me in a tag-your-it post.

Not unlike Shark Tag, there are specific rules (none involving any Jimmy Buffet tunes, though. Bummer).

  • The rules have to be posted
  • Answer the questions the tagger posted for you
  • Create eleven new questions to ask the people you’ve tagged
  • Tag eleven people with a link to your post
  • Give them a heads up that you tagged them

1.  Who is the one person you can 100% guarantee will make you laugh when you need it?  I would have to say my little dude, Squishy.  He is seven and full of funny saying, facial expressions and voices.
2.  What is something that your friends and family laugh at that you do?  They laugh at me.  Seriously.  No, just kidding.  They laugh at my stories and impressions of other people.  Sometimes they laugh when I switch accents from Ohio to New Jersey to New Orleans.  This can happen when I am really into telling a story and mostly by accident.
3. Pajamas in public – are you for them or against them?  I would say I am not a fan of real pajamas in public, although I do have some black pj pants that don’t look like pj pants I wear sometimes.  My bffs in my wolf pack all have a pair of these and we try and wear them on the same day as if we are still teenagers with braces on.                                                                                             4. Blackberry, Android, iPhone or some cheap little phone that does nothing but let you talk and maybe text on it? I am a Mac person, so I broke down in September and got an iPhone.  I have never looked back.  My Crackberry was fritzy and always needed attention.  The iPhone has been a dream.
5. What is the one thing if someone took away from you that you would throw a 2 year old temper tantrum on the floor crying fit over? I would throw an ultimate tantrum if someone took away my Kindle.  I love reading, and I would be lost without it.  Plus, it saves my place.  I have been known to have a temper tantrum when someone removed my bookmark.  😉
6. When was the last time you had a giggling fit? And do you remember why?  I had a giggling fit at school last week.  Sometimes teenagers are very surprising, and I have quite a group in my last period of the day Public Speaking class.  They have a great way of making me laugh (and also getting me completely off topic).
7. Have you ever worn socks with little toes in them?  I remember getting a pair of those from my grandmother many moons ago.  I think I put them on once and they found their way to the hamper and then to the bottom of my sock drawer never to be heard from again.
8.  Do you have any animals? If so, what species are they and why did you name them what you did? I have a cat named CC, because she is a calico cat.  I didn’t name her, my mom did.  I have a golden retriever named Luciana Juliet, but we call her Lucy or Lucifer if she is bad.  I have a Havanese puppy named Maisy Rosalind.  We really like Shakespeare names for our pets, mainly because both The Captain and I are English teachers.  I used to have a golden retriever named Romeo, or Romy for short, but he passed away two years ago.
9. Have you ever accidentally / on purpose / will never admit it – tripped your kid?  I have accidentally tripped both of them, but usually I am the one who gets tripped either by the kids or the dogs.  Funny how that works out.  It seems as if our golden knows exactly where to plant herself to ensure I will trip straight over her.
10.  If your high school would have seen how you turned out, what would they have put in your year book? What title would you have?  Hmmm.  That is tough.  I got the Biggest Flirt and Best Dressed awards in my senior class. I told them I should have received the Goofiest or Silliest award.  Maybe they would see that holds true more than those other silly awards.
11. Would you have preferred serious questions or goofy ones like these? (even though your vote is too late)  Goofy is good.  See my #10.  🙂

Now, according to said rules, I must make up 11 questions and tag some awesome blogs.

Good apples. Really good apples.

But, I am adding something to the rules – I am passing on the Good Apple Award to these folks, too.  You are all good apples in my book.  🙂  Here are my questions for you and the jpg to put on your blog (right click and save the image to your desktop):

1.  If you could be any literary character for a day, who would you choose and why?

2.  If time travel was possible, where would you like to visit?

3.  What is your biggest pet peeve?

4.  Do you have a nickname now or from childhood?  How did you get it?

5.  What is your favorite book of all time?

6.  If you had the power, what is one change you would make in this world?

7.  Would you prefer jelly beans, Cadbury cream eggs or Reese’s eggs?  Why?

8.  If you could have any super power, what would it be and why?

9.  Describe yourself in three adjectives.

10. Do you prefer Harry Potter, Twilight, Hunger Games or Lord of the Rings?  Why?

11.  What is your favorite musical and why?

Whew.  That was tough.  Here are the lucky ones who are in my school of fish, I mean, tag – you’re it! And you get an award, too!

I would also like to pass this award to Jonesin’ After 40 who is amazing, but very busy right now, and to Laughing at Everyday Life who tagged me and made up all the questions for me to answer above!  🙂

Guess what?  Shark Tag commences!

Just a Ukulele, Please

Sometimes a small, silly suggestion makes perfect sense down the road.  Here is a tale of goofy present with fun results.

For Christmas 2010, I didn’t want anything.  Nada.  Zip, zero, nothing.  Many asked.  Everyone got the same answer.  Nothing.  It was one of those years.

Lots o' Legos.

Once I had children, the holidays changed.  It was all about what I could find for them, what Santa would bring, what batteries I needed to buy to make sure their toys lit up, played music and had motion.  As my boys have gotten a little older, holiday shopping turned into finding the perfect Lego sets and Nintendo DS games.  Christmas wasn’t about me anymore, and that was perfectly OK with me.

Unfortunately, my personal philosophy about the holidays didn’t stop everyone from asking what I wanted for Christmas.  Some members in my family were not to the point where they understood how one could not even care less about what they are getting for the highly over-commercialized holiday.  The Captain, my husband, was frustrated because usually every year I give him an idea of something that I would like him to buy for me – i.e. a print-out with the exact item, store, size and price.  I kept telling him that I needed nothing. Nada. Zero. Zilch.  He wouldn’t let up.  So, after being exhausted from being asked, I told him, “Just a ukulele, please.”

He thought I was kidding.  Maybe because a ukulele is an uncommon thing for someone like me who has absolutely no musical talent whatsoever.  For some reason, at his staff holiday party, it became the story of the night.  His principal walked me around the room to retell the story about what I wanted for Christmas.  I tried to explain to her it wasn’t really much of a funny story at all, I just told my husband to get me a ukulele.  She thought this was hilarious.

On Christmas morning, after the boys tore into their gifts, The Captain surprised me with a big box.  I opened it, and voila, there was a real, genuine, no-bones-about-it ukulele.  I was surprisingly ecstatic with the gift.  I couldn’t believe he actually got me a uke.  Hilarious – yes!  A proud ukulele owner am I!

Since then, I have written a few songs for the ukulele.  Most are in reference to what my little dudes are up to.  Mind you, I have no idea how to play the thing, besides strumming randomly, so the songs don’t really count.  But, it turns out, that creating a silly song on the uke is very motivating (and somewhat embarrassing) for two boys.  Phoebe from Friends knew it all along!  Here are a few of the titles to further explain my point:

Sleepover, Yeah, I Better Sleep

Don’t Eat Your Boogers ‘Cause It’s Gross

The Homework Blues

Put the Seat Down or Mommy May Drown

Nine-Year-Old Crankie Pants

Little Brothers Sure Make Me Fart

Don’t Tell Daddy

Not Gonna Buy It

and last, but not least,

Livin’ on Chicken Nuggets and Chips.

A few weeks ago, I ran into my husband’s principal.  She introduced me to her friend as “the one who asked for a ukulele last year for Christmas and writes silly songs for it.”  I chuckled and asked her why she even thought of the ukulele.  She replied, “I think it is so funny, cool and unique.”  Mmmm.   Maybe next year I will ask for an oboe.

The Uke of 2010. A Holiday Hitmaster.

I do my own stunts

I fell at school last week.  I was walking down the hallway, and I slipped on a Skittle.  I am not sure who lost the red demon Skittle, but it knocked me down with the force of a 500 pound bag of Skittles.

These are strong, slippery little suckers.

It is really embarrassing to use the school hallways as a collision crash course.  Many students saw my mishap (sadly, they did not see the Skittle – stupid Skittle) and some even offered to help me up.  I was carrying things.  My coffee, for one, my laptop, for another.  I saved the laptop, lost the coffee.  Let’s say I was bitter for the remainder of the day, because it was good coffee.  Really good coffee.  Gone.

Luckily, my favorite Tech guy at school was absent.  Or, it may have been previewed many times due to the cameras in the hallway.  Maybe fast-forwarded, rewound, played in slow motion.  All of the fun that can come with someone falling on their buttocks in the main hallway.  Did I mention it was in the main hallway where there is the most traffic between class periods?  No?  Yes, it was.  Darn Skittle.

Save a laptop. Toss a coffee.

One fun thing I found out from falling down in the hallway:  It takes me longer to recuperate than it used to.  Over the weekend, I kept complaining about my knees (yes, those crashed down and impacted with the floor), my elbows (which is the epic save for my laptop), and my wrist (which, thanks the Skittle, was no match for the gravity that impaled my travel coffee mug into a locker).

Essence of today’s post:  Beware of Skittles, and know, that as we age, we may not bounce or bounce back as easily.  At least there isn’t video to prove this.

Yes, I am the Tooth Fairy

Spoiler alert:  If you still believe in the tooth fairy, stop reading now.  This may come as a shock to you, and I want you to be OK and not to worry your pretty little head about anything.   Go back, visit Freshly Pressed and wait for the Easter Bunny and Santa.  And remember to brush your teeth because the Tooth Fairy really appreciates it. 😉

This is me! Ready for anything to come my way - involving teeth!

Now, let’s begin.  I am the Tooth Fairy.  I provide the almighty cash when teeth are lost in my home.  I collect the teeth and put them in a special “place” in my secret container located in my bathroom.  I could make a glorious necklace of teeth shed from the children, but I am not creepy so I won’t.

I am the Tooth Fairy.  I have made stealth missions under pillows to find the tooth in the porcelain holder.  I plan my missions with ease and expertise.  I begin planning as soon as the tooth becomes visibly loose.  I show many ways the tooth can be wiggled, prodded, twisted and pulled.  After all, the goal is to lose the tooth.  I patiently wait for the tooth to be placed under the pillow.  Tom Cruise in Mission Impossible has nothing on me.  I am ready.  Bring one the tooth!

I am the Tooth Fairy.  I have made mistakes.  Once, hunting for a particularly difficult tooth under a pillow in a bed surrounded by over fifty stuffed animals, I woke up the sleeping darling.  He looked at me and asked if it was morning yet.  I told him no, that I heard him coughing and I was checking on him.  The Tooth Fairy must think quickly on her feet.  Another disaster was when the sleeping angel woke up and asked me why I had the tooth holder in my hands.  I said I was checking to see if the Tooth Fairy had visited because I knew I would not be home to see if she came.  This answer was acceptable, and the little man drifted back to sleep.  As the Tooth Fairy, I am ready for anything.

I am the Tooth Fairy.  For some reason, my sidekick, The Captain, conveniently never has any cash on the precious Tooth Fairy visits.  “With great power, comes great responsibility.”  Being the Tooth Fairy carries a high threshold of organization and duty, and, obviously, The Captain cannot handle the extreme elements of the task.  For some unknown reason, he does not worry if the Tooth Fairy forgets.  This has happened on his watch and, in Tooth Fairy land, is unacceptable. On my watch it won’t ever occur again.  In retrospect, The Captain makes an awful Tooth Fairy.  He is fired from ever being the Tooth Fairy again.  He may have to do double duty as Santa next year.

I am the Tooth Fairy.  It is a hard job.  It is demanding, does not come with rewards or benefits.  But there is one thing it does – it keeps the belief alive.  So, I will stay the faithful Tooth Fairy until my services are no longer required.

After all, I am the Tooth Fairy.

A happy customer.

The Thinks You Can Think

This past weekend, The Captain and both of my dudes wrapped up a three-weekend run of the musical Seussical at our community theater.  In a word, it was “adorable.”  I really wanted to be clever and put a Seuss word in there, but, alas, none come to me.  Yet…

“I meant what I said, and I said what I meant. An elephant’s faithful, one hundred percent.”  The musical is actually the story of Horton Hears a Who and Horton Hatches the Egg.  There are also references to The Lorax, The Grinch, Oh, The Places You’ll Go, The Cat in the Hat and Green Eggs and Ham.  The Cat is the “narrator” of the musical, and the characters are all the Seuss favorites.  In a word, it was “magical.”

Both of my dudes are in this photo.

My little guys were Whos.  They had to wear stuffed suits and wild wigs.  They were adorable.

String Bean had to hold the roast beast so the Grinch could carve it.  His face was priceless!  In a word, it was “precious.”

The Captain played one of the three monkeys who torment Horton.  His song was called, “Monkey Around” and the main lyric was, “You wanna monkey, monkey around?!”  Is it bad that I completely burst out laughing during this song?  Well, I did.  Thank goodness I was sitting by one of my friends, who also was laughing.  Not sure why this song would be included – adult humor?

A monkey…I am so proud.

It was pretty difficult keeping a straight face while my husband, in orange and white striped bib overalls, orange Chuck Taylor’s and an orange beanie is bouncing around the stage, like a monkey, asking the audience to “monkey around” with him.  So wrong on so many levels.  In a word, it was “goofy.”

“Don’t give up! I believe in you all. A person’s a person, no matter how small!”  The musical itself carries this message throughout, and it is one to always remember.  I don’t know how the good Dr. Seuss did it – but he made his work immortal. Move over vampires, read some Seuss.

I had the pleasure of getting to take pictures for the show, and that was a blast, but very challenging, too!  I hope I captured the heart of the show.  In a word, it was “memorable.”

So, here are some of my favorite “magical, precious, goofy and memorable” Seussisms:

“Oh, the thinks you can think up if only you try!”

“The more that you read, the more things you will know. The more that you learn, the more places you’ll go.”

“You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…”

“From there to here, from here to there, funny things are everywhere!”

“I know it is wet and the sun is not sunny, but we can have lots of good fun that is funny.”

“Be who you are and say what you feel,
because those who mind don’t matter,
and those who matter don’t mind”

“Today is your day, your mountain is waiting. So get on your way.”

In a word, Seuss is “Seusstacular.”  And a happy belated birthday to Dr. Seuss.

Oh, the thinks you can think!

The Spanish Inquisition

As a high school teacher, sometimes the littlest of instances force a reflection on my own less-than-stellar moments as a student and helps me get through some less-than-stellar days on the education front.

So a confession: There were times when I did not behave as a good student.

Spanish class was one of those times.

I was horrible in Spanish class.  From the day I stood in the door of the classroom, to the day I vowed never to take another course from that teacher, I was just an absolutely plain awful student.

Let me back up and explain that this was a difficult time for me.  My dad’s career transferred us from New Jersey to Ohio.  I was a junior in high school, moving away from all of my friends, my networks, my favorite mall (this is important to a teenager) to a town I didn’t understand.  I went from being a Fighting Eagle to a Fighting Quaker (yes, frighteningly enough, this is a real mascot – an oxymoron in itself).  Did I mention that I was a junior?  In high school?

As a new student, I got the thrill of being escorted around the building by the wind-pant wearing, whistle-swinging P.E. teacher.  He led me through the building with an editorial about many different things: who not to hang out with, what not to eat in the cafeteria and where not to sit at the stadium.  He also introduced me to all of my teachers – as they were in the middle of teaching their first period classes.  It was quite embarrassing, if I do say so myself.

He directed me into the Spanish classroom, and I stopped dead in my tracks.  The class was being taught by the wife in The Shining with a pyramid haircut.  I had a flash to being snowed in the high school and this teacher screaming as her students shouted “Red Rum, Red Rum!”  I could not step any further into the door.  This did not bode well for the gym teacher who proceeded to push me as if I was on the defensive line through the doorway.

Mrs. S. looked at me inquisitively, introduced herself and was very nice that day.  It was the first and last time that would happen.

I was awful in her class.  First, I was placed in the back of the room.  This is not a good place for me – especially in a class that was Greek to me, oops, I mean Spanish.  I would try listening to her, I really would, but I couldn’t get the vision of her fighting off Jack Nicholson’s character out of my mind.  The same actress also starred in Popeye – as Olive Oil – so it was Shining or Olive Oil, all day, every day.  Also, Mrs. S. talked like she was eating her face.  It was very disturbing.

After awhile, I began to read in class.  Novels, not Spanish.  This is when Mrs. S. caught on to my less-than-stellar performance as a student.  She began taking away the precious novels I would be reading in class.  I switched to magazines.  She figured that out, too.  Darn.

My mom, Crazy Pat, was concerned when Mrs. S. called her in for a conference.  I told my mom that Mrs. S. was mean and that she reminded me of a horror movie actress.  I also told my mom that Mrs. S. was so boring and she always took my things away.  Did I mention I was awful?

Crazy Pat went in for the conference.  She came home, spread out 12 novels and 16 magazines on the kitchen table.  She told me she believed that I was not acting appropriately, and there was a personality conflict because of it.  She said I needed to apologize the Mrs. S. and start paying attention.

I started paying attention.  But I never apologized.

Driving home from school yesterday, I saw my Spanish teacher walking her dog.  She still had the pyramid haircut.  She still had the inquisitive look on her face.  She still looked exactly like the actress in The Shining.

I felt badly for my behavior as a 16-year-old.  To Mrs. S., I am truly sorry for my poor behavior.  The old saying is true: what comes around goes around.  And it has come full circle now that I am a teacher.  Oh, and one more thing, thanks for giving my novels and magazines to my mom.   I really appreciated it.  Oh, and, sorry for being just plain awful.  OK?  Thanks.

Welcome to Spanish.

It’s Snow Fair

It’s snow fair when other schools all around me have snow days and we don’t.  It’s snow fair when we have a winter without a snow day.  It’s snow fair this year.

Usually, a snow-covered, wintery weekday morning goes like this: It is early.  The sun hasn’t even decided if it is going to show itself (and it probably won’t because it is winter in Ohio).  The alarm clock hasn’t made its deafening sound to frighten me out of bed.  The cat is nestled cozily sleeping next to me.  And then, the phone rings.

Here is what immediately goes through my mind:  Whose school is calling?  Please let it by my school!

And then I speak those precious words, “Whose school is calling?”  I say to my sleeping husband, The Captain.

He checks the called ID and says the horrible words, “Mine.”

Crapola.  That means that he is off or has a delay and I have to go in at the regular time. We teach at two different districts, so this is a common thing during the winter.

Sadly, this morning occurrence has only happened once this season.  At it was not for my district.  Ugh.

So I am begging, pleading for Mother Nature to send us a snow day.  Just one little snow day.  Because teaching a bunch of teenagers who act as if it’s the week before spring break, and yet it is not quite March, is sheer torture.  Spring break weather needs to be reserved for spring break time.  Not February.  Plus, my little dudes at home and I would really like to go skiing, sledding or even just build a snowman.  To be fair, that is what winter is all about.

And, if we don’t get one, in the words of my students, “It will be, like, oh my God, so snow fair.”

Even Squishy would love a snow day. This snow was from Christmas break. Go figure!