I took Chooch’s thank you cards to school on Wednesday morning for his teacher to hand out. She (and Momesis, who was also there) began cooing over my handwriting. It’s really nothing special, but I only had eight envelopes to address so I spent a little more time making them look cool.
“I have a lot of time on my hands,” I laughed, brushing off their compliments because I am SO MODEST.
Today when I was waiting outside the classroom to get Chooch, his teacher came out and said, “Oh good, you’re here! I have something to ask you! You can say no if you want!”
I braced myself. When people tack that on to the end of favor-askin’, I get scared. One of these days it’s going to be an organ request, I just know it.
Anyway, she wants me to write all the kids’ names on their graduation certificates. Including the 3-year-olds, it’s a total of 24. I said yes, it’s not like I have much else going on & I myself enjoy the arthritic sensations of pen-gripping.
“You must get asked to do this all the time,” his teacher laughed as she prepared a list of names for me.
“No, not really,” I said, flashbacks of four years being the signage bitch at a meat company running through my mind like a stop-motion slasher reel.
The only downside is that now there is pressure to perform perfectly. I just know I’m going to accidentally write “Jonny Craig” on one of them, probably a penis-doodle, too.