We were at the school having lunch with Sean because he was Student of the Week. Sean got to draw a poster about himself, be lineleader all week, be the teacher’s helper, do show and tell, and also get to have his parents have lunch with him. To make it extra special, we always bring a kid’s meal of some sort.
Their Father: Look. He’s eating with his right hand.
Me: Yes. He’s been using his right more, but he is still switching.
Teacher: Oh, he’s still switching.
She looked over at the other two teachers. They all nodded agreement.
Teacher: But. Sean’s working very hard with strengthening those hand muscles. Cutting with scissors. Holding a tissue as he writes. (Pause.) Um. What? Um. What hand does he use when he. . . um . . . when he um . . . . What does he use when he’s in the bathroom?
Being surrounded by talkative, smart, attentive kindergarteners didn’t help, but I had a feeling that even without the kids, this teacher would have a hard time articulating. She didn’t raise boys. At least, not boys like mine.
Me: (A smile. A raised eye brow.) He doesn’t.
The teacher looked startled. Her facial expression spoke for her. He doesn’t?
Me: Nope. He just stands there and (I raised my hands to head level.) lets it fly.
Teacher: Oh Go-. Oh my.
Teacher: Well, you know. They have hand preference with that too. With holding it for the bathroom. And. Um. And. You know. (Breathe) When he gets a little holder, he’ll prefer a hand to um . . . to . . . that thing that starts with an “M.”
If I didn’t like this woman so much, I would have acted like I didn’t know. It would have been an entertaining five minutes. Or if I were more evil.
Me: We saw Gattaca. We know.
Though that reminds me.
New penis rule:
HOLD and AIM!