It's summer for me. I have no job. I don't see a WHOLE lot of people. So, I have nothing to blog about. Unless, of course, you want to hear about how 1 in 5 people have genital herpes...which I'm sure you don't. The only reason I know that is because they run the Valtrex commercial on daytime television no less than once every 9 minutes. It's a fact. Seriously, who is their audience here? Middle aged moms that are making lunch for their 7-year-olds. Are they really worried about herpes and their need for an anti-viral medicine? I think not.
ANYWAY...because I have nothing to write about, I'm going to start posting blogs from my early days of blogging. Before I had Blogger...before I had readers across the globe. Or...whatever...all 7 of my readers. You get my drift, though. So, I found this blog that I wrote back in October and it was about kindergartneres and poop. They two are mutually inclusive. ENJOY!!
Installment number 2. Number 2 makes me think of a couple of things. First, this is my second installment of my blog. I might have another installment tonight because I think it's so fun. So perhaps that can make up for the fact that I might skip some days - you know, if I'm busy eating cookie dough or something. Number 2 also makes me think of little boys in the bathroom. I said that I wasn't going to share my normal stories of "Pete peed his pants and Marina cried on the playground and my coworker won't check her email." I lied. Nobody has peed yet today (well, in their pants), but a little boy has spent the better part of the day crying (in the computer lab becuase he couldn't double click, time out in the room because he touched the knife I was using to cut the pumpkin -yes, I let the children play with knives) and my coworker is really stupid. She can't figure out how to check email and further she called humus "hyoomis" today. I looked at her like, "Seriously? You've never heard of HUMus? Ugh." But I just averted my eyes. Okay so moving on to why I think of little boys in the bathroom for #2. I just walked by the bathroom and eavesdropped on two of my CUTE kids from last year (first grade now) and one of them was obviously going #2 and I pieced that together from the grunting and straining that I heard. I started giggling to myself and listened for a sec, which turned into 7 minutes while the other one was just conversing about how "his karate teacher got fired but before that he could punch like 100 times a minute. 1000 actually. Hurry up! How badly do you have to go? Like 100 percent or 200 percent? HURRY UP!" OMG I love my job!
So I don't know what it is about today, but #2s must be 'in the air'. Today, while we are walking up from recess...in two straight lines (well, as straight as straight can get for forty 5-year-olds coming down from their fruit-roll-up-snack high and fresh off the playground hysteria) and one little honey squeals, "EWWWWW MISS ROSE!!!!!!! SOMEBODY POOPED!" as if she's tattling on her incontinent little friend who has just squatted and done some business. She's pointing to the ground and I can't see...I'm like 20 yards away (they're stragglers) and can't see the poop but I'm HOPING it's from an animal. I start laughing...real laughing because it's just that funny...and tell them that it's probably and hopefully from a dog or other large animal and to please not step in it. I reiterate this point for a good 3 minutes. Does anyone else say at work to another person, "Watch out. Don't step in the poop!" ? Sure enough, we walk a few more yards and a little boy then exclaims that he got it on him and shows me a LARGE SCHMEAR of poop on the back of his right calf. I'm so laughing at this point and we ALL stop and get off the sidewalk and onto the grass, I remind them not to step in any poop, and wipe your feet on the grass because we "will not trek poop into our lovely place of learning. The school is no place for poop!" I tell the little boy all about how when we get inside, he is to first wipe the poop off his leg with SEVERAL baby wipes, making sure not to get it on his hands, and then to wash his hands really really well to get the germs off. Okay. So, we make it inside and I'm doubled-over laughing about how many times I have just said "poop" with the five-year-olds and how a school is no place for the poop.
Then Mr. Gonzales comes in and shows my class the fossils of "dinosaur poop" that his class has just created and examined in the science lab.
To Mr. Gonzales: Thank you for discrediting my point that school is no place for poop. The kindergarteners will never believe anything else I say. Well played my friend, well played.
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