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Wednesday, January 9, 2013

Dear Postman: RETURN TO SENDER

I received a letter from the high school this week addressed to the parents of one Joe C. Skinner.  Surely there is another Joe C. Skinner somewhere around here whose parents belong in a Rising Freshman Parents Meeting about Pre-AP World History, Honors Biology, Electives and pathways to standard or advanced diplomas.  I'm so very confused.  They surely have the wrong address.

But there we sat.  MY Joe C. Skinner and me.  My Joe C. Skinner looked at the letter with me and then ran to the computer to pull up all the course selections.  My Joe C. Skinner was beside himself with excitement because there are Journalism classes offered in high school. Ever since he was about 3 or 4 years old, my Joe C. Skinner has given the play by play of every single sports event that is occurring whether it's on TV or in the driveway or on the XBox.  He wrote stories about his sports games that did not miss a single play. He has a signed photo on his bulletin board of Neil Everett. If you are a mom of boys who watch ESPN 24/7, you would know that Neil Everett is an ESPN sports analyst/anchorman/broadcast journalist type guy.  But you see, I'm pretty certain that my Joe C. Skinner still should be 3 or 4 years old which is when he told me that when he got big he wanted to work at McDonald's and when he got weally, weally big he wanted to work at Chick-Fil-A. (Truth.  It's important to have goals, no?)

When I look at him lately, though, I am stumped.  I sometimes don't recognize this Joe C. Skinner.  His dad decided it was time again to do the "Are you taller than Mom yet?" test, just last night.  And it has happened.  He made us move in front of the mirror so I couldn't argue it.  My Joe C. Skinner has passed me up.  I could see it with my own eyes.  So, then I filled the bathtub up to the top and poured in at least half a bottle of my "Soothing Stress-Reducing Chamomile" bath soap.  They should just call it "Your Baby is Not a Baby Anymore/Take to the Bath and Cry" bath soap.  I sat there and looked at the ceiling and wondered about this thing called time and how I cannot make it stop.    

Because I promise you it was just yesterday that my Joe C. Skinner and I were driving down the road in my little white Honda.  We were just us, just one boy and his mommy.  We didn't need a giant SUV because all we needed was ONE car seat and ONE sippy cup and ONE pair of Stride Rite shoes. We were probably on the way home from the library or Gymboree class or just wandering around the mall where we were throwing coins in the fountain.   It was summer and my Joe C. Skinner looked out the car window as we were stopped at a stop sign next to a roadside watermelon stand. 

"MOMMY!  MOMMY! LOOK! LOOK OVER DERE!" he shouted, "LOOK AT THOSE BERY, BERY, BIG PICKLES!"

So as you can see, my Joe C. Skinner could not possibly be ready for that high school curriculum.  The boy doesn't know a pickle from a watermelon, okay?  It's just not time yet.  Unless, the high school is offering some sort of vegetable/fruit food classification course, I think I'll just keep him strapped into his car seat for a bit longer, thank you very much.  If anyone by chance happens to see the parents of Joe C. Skinner that were supposed to get this letter, I'll keep it safe.  Because surely, surely, surely, this kid is not going to high school this year.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Hello again Friend,
Your boy is so ready for this. He will be true to himself and carry all the love and wisdom you have bestowed on this next part of his journey. He is kind, intelligent, and brave. He takes lessons and makes connections to the outside world like pickles and watermelons. He sees the importance of Faith, as in Chick'fil'a is closed on Sundays. Joe is a one of a kind. I'll just need to get YOU more of that chamomile stress relieving soap.
Much love,
Mrs. C

Jenn said...

Oh, Mrs. C. You again! Making me cry. Thank you so much. Perhaps you and I should buy stock in that chamomile soap?