I spent the afternoon at the elementary school. First up was lunch with the second graders. Jackson was thrilled that I was able to come for their Thanksgiving Dinner. All the food was decent, except for the roll which was, um, heavenly. For as long as I can remember elementary schools have owned the market on good rolls. I don't know what their secret 13 herbs and spices are, but they know how to make a good roll.
I sat next to a boy with a dripping nose, large elbows that often rubbed my ribs, and the happiest grin you'd ever want to see from a second grader. I was the Jerry Seinfeld of the lunchroom by calling the girls boy names, and the boys girl names, and referring to myself as Corrina. They were rolling in the benches. "Thanks kids - I'll be here all week. Don't forget to tip the waitress. Try the veal!"
Following lunch, I got to go help in Danica's kindergarten class. Ms. Creel had those energetic kids mesmerized and in the palm of her hand as she read them a book. I felt privileged to be a fly on the wall in her classroom.
It was a great afternoon. I'd be happy to help kids learn how to read colors, wipe snotty noses, help tie 27 shoes an hour, and have my ribs jabbed every day of the week. I'd be pretty excited about being able to eat more rolls too.
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