Where I'm Calling From

Some people relish in the glory of getting a promotion or say, completing an Iron Man. Me? I slept until around 10:30 today. You have no idea what an accomplishment that is.

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This weekend I volunteered at Reading To Kids, which is a program where grown-ups read books and do crafts with under-privileged kids. I got 1st graders. I was nervous. I mean, they're like, 6 and I was panicking that they'd be all bored. I was paired with this veteran reader, Yolanda, who was all, "Oh don't worry -- it's really easy." You know what? 6-yr olds are a tough crowd. They have the attention span of gnats. (Good thing they're cuter.) We played this game where when they were writing out their names I asked each of them their favorite food. And then I'd ask a follow up question about that food. For example:

Me: Dariana, what's your favorite food?
Dariana: A kiwi!!! (6 year olds speak entirely in exclamation points.)
Me: Oh really? Do you like the fur on a kiwi?
Dariana: *giggles* Noooooo!!!!

It was a fun game until we got to this little boy, Jason.

Me: Jason, what's your favorite food?
Jason: Yogurt!!!
Me: Yogurt, huh? Nice... do you milk the cow?
Jason: *scowl* JESUS CHRIST, lady, I don't have a cow in my house!!!

Did you just say "Jesus Christ"? And did you just call me "lady?" I'm not sure which is more offensive.

This is why I shouldn't have kids. As shocked as I was with this kid's bluster, my own child would probably be all, "Uhhh, did you just ask me if I milked a cow? You're retarded." And I'd have no one to blame but myself b/c that's how I talk.

On a bright note, no one died. I even taught them a little yoga which was like the most adorable thing EVER. Seriously -- first-graders in cobra? Beyond.

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Remember this post? Well here's a weird twist: SHE friended me. Ummm, now what?