Friday, April 28, 2006

Renewable bloggable resources

I don't have anything original to say today, so here's an oldie but goodie. We all used to be 5 years old. Have a great weekend everyone! (if you missed this fun musical diversion from last week, here you go)

Kindergarten [JB and I didn't meet RCR until 2nd grade]: RCR was in the other half day, so I still haven't met him yet. Me and JB had afternoons, yes! Neener, neener!

No recounting of kindergarten is going to be complete without the busdriver game. You knew it was coming, JB. I forget exactly how we came up with the names 'Flannigan' and 'Mike Lake', but I believe it was from JB's experience riding either the big kid bus or the redneck bus. For some reason I didn't ride these busses.

Anyway, we rode bigwheels around his driveway in circles (his driveway forms a circle), pretending we were the busdriver, yelling at the "kids" behind us.

Roll, roll, roll... FLANNIGAN! roll, roll, roll... MIKE LAKE! We also distributed punishments to them which included tossing them out of the moving bus and running them over. And then, when the moment was juuuust right, we would halt the "bus" and say in our best West Virginy redneck voices, "Gotta stop and take a spee-it!" and hawk a little boy lugey right there on the pavement.


Yeah, we were pretty much a class act from day one.

There was a guy in our class, [removed], I believe his name was, who was from the boonies even by our standards. The boonies are never far away in West Virginia no matter where you are, but wherever it was he came from, his heavy boots were always caked in mud.

Just about every morning when we were sitting in this semi-circle of wide eyed innocence, once he had an audience he would -- keep in mind I am not making this up -- he would run his finger along the sole of his boot, collecting a big slab of mud, and eat it right there in front of everybody!

His entertainment value didn't stop at grinning through a mouthful of mud on Kiddie Fear Factor, though. As a class we made a "cookbook" for all of our mothers for mothers day. We were supposed to come up with a recipe. It was all very cute and endearing and my Mom still has hers. [His] entry was "Cookies and Ice Cream -- Go to the store and buy cookies and ice cream."

Ok, so I'm digging. Really I just wanted a segue into my entry to the cookbook. It was for chocolate chip cookies, because my Mom was famous for hers (and my sister has since improved the recipe, but don't anyone dare tell my Mom about that). I forget all what was in it, though I made an honest attempt to reproduce what I'd seen go in them. The final line in the recipe was "Eat them all, they're nice and tasty!"

I don't see it, but everyone seems to get a kick out of that. I mean, it's what you do with cookies. You eat them! And since they're so tasty you may as well eat them all. I mean, what's to miss here?

So anyway.

I was a cold lunch kid and JB was a hot lunch kid. That means we were segregated at lunchtime into "Kids whose mothers love them" and "Kids whose mothers hate them" tables (aka, cold and hot lunch tables). That meant I had no annoying line to deal with and could get in, eat, and go out to recess faster.

This made JB jealous because in winter time that meant I got back to the classroom before he did and could acquire the coveted blocks to play with. He wanted the blocks and I don't blame him, they were the shit. You could set stuff up, knock it down, set it up again... there were a veritable smorgasboard of avenues to explore.

When he got back he'd ask to "share" them with me but I wasn't falling for that one. You had to get up pretty early in the morning to pull one over on the 5 year old Seattle Scribe. I knew that was his secret plan to monopolize the blockpile (dirtpiles and blockpiles factored heavily into my early childhood). This of course inevitably led to fighting. I think he still secretly harbors a little ill will about that. Ha ha! I got the good blocks on more days than you did! Plllbbbttt!!!

Ok, one last memory before I go and do something else. Our teacher asked us who we thought the best person in the world was. There were alot of My Dad's and whatnot, but me, being the budding little egalitarian I was, said "Everyone". I don't recall anyone else's reaction, but I was as smug and self satisfied as a kindergartener could be.

JB didn't hesitate and triumphantly thrust his little 6 year old chest out and loudly proclaimed, "I am!" I'm pretty sure it involved a hand motion. Taking offense, I stood right up, stomped my foot, and said "That's not fair!" and then proceeded to argue the point with the teacher.

JB still makes fun of me for that.


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