I was especially excited to pick SIP up today from school. His first grade class took a field trip to the Savannah Children's Theater, and being a thespian myself, I hoped my extremely introverted only child might have found some kind of "ham" down in his gut once introduced to the stage. So, I embarked on the daily adventure of "pick-up" at Marshpoint Elementary, arrived fifteen minutes before last bell, threw the Subaru in park, played a round of Candy Crush before the tail lights in front of me glowed with activity and we were underway! I pulled up to the curb, the daily intense and distraught looking woman shoved him into the backseat, and before he could get his seat belt on, I asked, "How was your day?"
His reply, "Curtis threw up in the cafeteria."
Not at all what I expected to hear on such a monumental day, but we've all been there. If it was you, I'm sorry. If it wasn't, then it was some other kid who turned white and sometimes green before emitting that guttural noise followed by acidic fluids. Your teacher pressed the "panic" button on the wall and the voice of Oz came from the office, "Is everything okay?" If your teacher was cool, she said, "yes, we just need a janitor." If she wasn't cool, then she ran out of the room gagging and your class Vice President said, "we need a janitor." Either way, a less than enthusiastic forty something year old man appeared with a bag full of kitty litter and poured it all over the vomit that had already eaten through the enamel on the government contracted linoleum floors. You don't forget that smell, bile and limestone mixed with vaporous humiliation...Forget nuclear warfare, if we could bottle that stuff and spray it on our enemies, then we'd have something...
So SIP didn't have much to say about his rare trip on a bus with no seat belts to a theater where all children become stars. Instead, he only mentioned his good buddy who blew chunks in the cafeteria. I can't blame him, that sort of thing makes an impression on a person. "Oooooh," I exclaimed, "there is nothing worse than getting sick at school!" SIP considered my comment and replied, "Except a house falling on you."
Once again, I was humbled by the perspective of a six year old. A house falling on me would be worse, much worse than getting sick at school. Curtis, stick close to this guy, he'll keep you smiling all the way back from Mexico after that wild senior trip...
