I left work early because Trainboy had his Spring Program at school. By the time I’d gotten home the Super Wife had already left, so I drove on to the school. I found her in the gym, already seated and about in the middle of a row. She had an empty seat beside her so I excused myself all the way to it.

She seemed happy to see me, but said she reserved rebuttal rights on last night’s blog posting. Everybody’s a critic. Shortly after exchanging pleasantries I looked for the camera bag. It was not there. I asked her if she wanted pictures. She thought the gear was in the back of my car. It was not. It was in the back of her van. But yes, she’d like some pictures.

I excused myself all the way out to the other end of the line. Then came a jog to the van. I’d parked across the street from it about a block away. Open the rear of the van and… there it is- one camera bag. It’s a fairly large one, and by the time you put in a fairly large video camera, 35 mm camera, zoom lens, and assorted accessories it’s a heavy thing. No matter, I need the exercise. I jog back to school with it.

Sweating, I excuse myself all the way back to her seat, carrying this big bag, trying not to bump people too badly. I unpack the 35 mm and put the zoom on, locked and loaded. Then I ask, “You want video too?” When will I learn? She says why yes. Unpack the video camera, etc.

I excuse myself out, grateful that it’s highly unlikely anybody would pack heat in a grade school, but wondering if it isn’t about time we installed metal detectors. I also wonder if my deodorant is working. It doesn’t matter. Just set up.and.we.are.LIVE!

Neither of my hearing aids is working. I haven’t a clue what they’re singing; apparently this is the Spring Program of the Obscure. (dramatically) Before we can go into the future, first we must understand the past. It is time… for a time warp {{{{{}}}}}

Last night the Super Mom put together a cowboy outfit for Trainboy. His teacher had sent a note home that all the boys should try to dress like cowboys. The ever-resourceful Super Mom put together a cowboy outfit including a cowboy hat and a vest made out of a fake wool last seen on the seat covers of a 1968 Dodge Dart. It was unconvincing fake wool and we would leave it at that, except. Except even a six year-old knew it wasn’t exactly cowboy gear, not unless the cowboy had shot a sheep herder, and was willing to wear the skin of a wooly gila monster. Not likely. Time to …time warp {{{{{}}}}}.

Trainboy, now Cowboy, is onstage. He is not wearing a vest. He is not wearing a hat. The Super Mom is surprised; I am not. Because I realize that Trainboy is more like me than I’d ever suspected. As a kid I would have refused to wear any vest that didn’t meet my expectation of authentic. And I would have refused to wear any hat. It was never so cold I had to wear a hat, never. Super Mom may be surprised, but I understand completely, and I’m happy.



When the program finished we went home. Ms. Pikachu was already home, honing her Nintendo skills. Tired from being up too late last night blogging, I fell asleep on the couch. When I woke up the Super Nurse had already departed for work.

The reasonable thing would be to ask the kids if they’re hungry. So I ask them. Ms. Pikachu says no, she’s already eaten. Trainboy says he’s not hungry either. Well I am. So I grabbed a TV dinner out of the freezer, popped it in the microwave, and really pitied my poor ancestors. How did they get by?

Properly heated, I sit down in front of the TV because where else should one eat a TV dinner? There’s pot roast, mashed potatoes and gravy and the usual etc… Take a bite, not bad, not bad at all. Trainboy is sitting by me, I ask him if he’d like a bite. He points at a piece of meat, “That one.” Well alrighty then. For a kid who isn’t hungry he does very well. He eats everything except the green beans and celery. No problem with me, there’s more as close as a trip to the freezer and microwave.

We watched Spongebob; it was a good one. Ms. Pikachu came down stairs and said “I heard you laughing.” In the interest of saving energy we aren’t going to use the time warp, I’m just going to tell you- the last time the Schwan’s man came around I got a French silk pie figuring Ms. Chocoholic would like that. She did. So, before she headed back upstairs she told me she’d already eaten the pie, and would I please get another. I could, but technically, that would probably make me an enabler.

Eventually Trainboy decided it was time to pull the plug. We went upstairs and he asked me for a “big shirt” for bed. He likes to use one of my T-shirts for a nightshirt. I got him my Mensa T and told him that it’s a shirt for smart people and now that he can recite all the presidents he can wear it. He seemed pleased. Then we read ‘Harry and the Lady Next Door’ and he was done.



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