552
16 July 2012
R. Linda:
I had a day off, so I was off to get our cars serviced. I had dropped one car off, and then when that was done, I was to drop the other one off. So, in between the waiting, O'Hare tells me he asked his friend who lives a mile away over for playtime. The child arrived, and we'll call him Boris because he's from Russia and a nice kid, but he's an only child, and he gets anything he wants, so he's spoiled. Not a bit spoiled; we are talking big-time spoiled. He's a me-me kid, if you get me drift.
Guido had got a big new book, and he wanted me to read it to him, so I sat on the edge of the bed and opened it. That brought the other two who wanted to hear it. Ok, that was fine. Now I find me eyesight (from me job and always being on the computer at work in glaring light) be getting harmful to where I have to put the book down by my ankles to be able to read it, and of course, the kiddos complain they can't see the pictures. SIGH. I had them sit on the floor as I read it. Afterwards, I left them happy and playing together and went downstairs. Well, all was going well for the first hour until there was some dispute that Guido felt he was being left out, and WAH WAH WAH, it was a very sad story.
I went to their room and told them they all had to play nice. That just because O'Hare had a friend over, they couldn't exclude LaGuardia. Reluctantly and with a lot of sighing, they said, "OK."
Next, I hear yelling and wailing, and Tonya shouts from her garden at me in the kitchen to please go see what they are destroying. I trudged up the stairs, and they were throwing anything that wasn't nailed down at each other but mainly at Guido. The room was a monstrous mess. I was appalled, especially that the two bigger kids had ganged up on the smaller one, who was in tears and screaming at them and who I could hardly see for all the toys that had been lobbed in his direction.
I went over and pulled him out and then turned around and told the two miscreants how unhappy I was with their treating the younger one like target practise.
"Well, he wouldn't let us alone," Boris piped up, used to being heard.
"I don't care, I told you all to play nice, and this isn't nice."
"Well, maybe he should not take things we are playing with." Boris pushed it further.
I won't give you the whole conversation because it wasn't long after this I decided I didn't like Boris's behaviour. So I told Boris to pack up his things. I was taking him home and to O'Hare, I said, "Since you can't include your brother, nicely, your friend has to go. Now clean this mess up while I take him home."
O'Hare immediately collapsed to the floor and started wailing. I left him there and got Boris home. But the entire drive, Boris was throwing his best friend under the bus, saying it was O'Hare's fault this and that happened. I told him that wasn't nice to do and he'd be better off not talking. When I got to his house, I explained to his parents (both work from home) why he was being returned and that maybe another time, when things calmed down, we could try again. I left to get in my car, and my mobile rang. I thought it was the garage telling me Tonya's car was ready to bring in the Saturn, but no, it was Tonya telling me O'Hare had packed up his backpack and ran away from home. Oi!
"What direction did he go?" I asked, and she told me she didn't know he left until Guido came and told her, so she did not know and could not see him from the bottom of our neighbour's driveway, and not having her car, she couldn't go look. Meanwhile, in the background, I can hear my younger son asking if he can have O'Hare's bed and his toys. Oi, the child. "Ok, I'll go now," I said to her and started back towards my house.
I was two blocks away from my abode when who do I see walking along the side of the road, facing towards oncoming traffic but me son. I pull over on the other side of the road and tell him I am proud he's walking in that direction so he can see any oncoming cars. He was standing there glowering at me when a car pulled up behind him with a couple in it, and she shouted, asking O'Hare if he was all right and was that man (meaning me) bothering him and, worse, trying to pick him up.
Well, what do you think he said. YUP, he did.
"I'm his father," I said as she informed me she had called the police. Did we really need the police in this? Oi, oi, oi!
"Is this man your father?" The woman asked him, and he reluctantly said yes, I sorta looked like him. Gees!
Here, I thought they were stalking him, and they thought I was doing the stalking. They were only looking out for him, I learned, once the police arrived. I tell ya, kids!
I explained to these good Samaritans what had happened, and of course, I was getting no help from the interruptions to the story by O'Hare with HIS version. Meanwhile, a few cars would pass, all slowing down and asking if some trouble was going on. Oi, oi, oi!
Finally, the police cruiser comes on the scene, and the officer gets out and asks O'Hare if he is all right. Yes, he is. He's leaving home, he informs the man. And where was he going? To Alexis Lane, just up the road. To who's house? He didn't know, but to someone who would be good to him and give him a good home.
Oh my GOD! He sounded like a lost puppy and made me and Tonya sound like the most awful parents in the world because we committed the ultimate sin of sending his best friend home for bad behaviour.
So the cop tells the couple in the car not to go anywhere; he wants to talk to them but crosses over to me. Has me get out of my car, show him my license and registration and then asks me if there is trouble at home. Well, of course, there be I stupidly say, "We have THIS situation going on."
"No, are you still with the child's mother?"
"My wife? Yes, I see what you are asking; no, there be no trouble at home; we are together. Everything is fine."
He had me explain what happened that the young child would take it upon himself to leave home, and then once done, I said to him, "Do you think you can talk to him?"
"Oh yeah, I intend to."
Then he returns to the other side of the road and gets a statement from the two in the car. He sends them on their way and puts O'Hare in the back of the cruiser to talk to him. Well, this was not the fun thing of being in a police car playing pretend. This was being in a police car with a cop telling you the harm of running away. He even gives him a card with a telephone number of where to call if this happens again and the young one needs to talk.
I'm listening to this as I lean on my car, thinking, can we get any more dramatic? Can we blow this anymore out of proportion?
O'Hare is returned to me, and we go home. Now he's upset because the police came, and he didn't like being told off in the cruiser.
"He wasn't told off," I said to Tonya, "he was firmly told of the dangers of walking down country roads by himself and the worry he would bring to us, not to mention the entire community."
Tonya's reaction was that to keep us from being investigated by social services, we needed to ask the school counsellor to talk to O'Hare. In other words, we make the first move before they do, so we are responsible parents.
"We are responsible parents," I protested.
"You and I know that, but it doesn't take much in this day and age." She shot back.
There was no need for this, and I tried to talk her out of it, but from being in the school system, she'd seen a lot and yadda, yadda, yadda. So, the small concern became a bigger one. Because O'Hare is enrolled in a summer arts programme for smart kiddos, when I dropped him off, I spoke to the art teacher and told her the story. She said, "They will all threaten or try that once, and then that's it." But I told her if the counsellor would talk to him, my wife would feel better.
"Is there trouble at home?" She asked me concerned.
OI! Here we go again!
Well, a week went by, and I found out the counsellor never got around to talking to O'Hare (that's how important they took this), and then when I said forget it, I found that morning they called him in, and all the forgotten drama came alive once more. Not only was O'Hare interviewed, but the woman called in Boris, who was also enrolled, to find out "his truth," we already know that the Me child would blame everything on O'Hare, which he did. THIS testimony was so bad they wanted to recommend professional counselling for O'Hare. I was like, what the feck? But before they'd do that, they asked me AGAIN if everything was all right at home. WHAT? AGAIN? SERIOUSLY?
Tonya, when hearing this, marched herself into the school and, being a teacher at another school, had some clout and told them what they could do with their recommendations. So far, no word from anyone about anything.
I said to her, how could this have happened over something so stupid. Could it be blown out of any more proportion than it already was? I tell ya!
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
16 July 2012
R. Linda:
I had a day off, so I was off to get our cars serviced. I had dropped one car off, and then when that was done, I was to drop the other one off. So, in between the waiting, O'Hare tells me he asked his friend who lives a mile away over for playtime. The child arrived, and we'll call him Boris because he's from Russia and a nice kid, but he's an only child, and he gets anything he wants, so he's spoiled. Not a bit spoiled; we are talking big-time spoiled. He's a me-me kid, if you get me drift.
Guido had got a big new book, and he wanted me to read it to him, so I sat on the edge of the bed and opened it. That brought the other two who wanted to hear it. Ok, that was fine. Now I find me eyesight (from me job and always being on the computer at work in glaring light) be getting harmful to where I have to put the book down by my ankles to be able to read it, and of course, the kiddos complain they can't see the pictures. SIGH. I had them sit on the floor as I read it. Afterwards, I left them happy and playing together and went downstairs. Well, all was going well for the first hour until there was some dispute that Guido felt he was being left out, and WAH WAH WAH, it was a very sad story.
I went to their room and told them they all had to play nice. That just because O'Hare had a friend over, they couldn't exclude LaGuardia. Reluctantly and with a lot of sighing, they said, "OK."
Next, I hear yelling and wailing, and Tonya shouts from her garden at me in the kitchen to please go see what they are destroying. I trudged up the stairs, and they were throwing anything that wasn't nailed down at each other but mainly at Guido. The room was a monstrous mess. I was appalled, especially that the two bigger kids had ganged up on the smaller one, who was in tears and screaming at them and who I could hardly see for all the toys that had been lobbed in his direction.
I went over and pulled him out and then turned around and told the two miscreants how unhappy I was with their treating the younger one like target practise.
"Well, he wouldn't let us alone," Boris piped up, used to being heard.
"I don't care, I told you all to play nice, and this isn't nice."
"Well, maybe he should not take things we are playing with." Boris pushed it further.
I won't give you the whole conversation because it wasn't long after this I decided I didn't like Boris's behaviour. So I told Boris to pack up his things. I was taking him home and to O'Hare, I said, "Since you can't include your brother, nicely, your friend has to go. Now clean this mess up while I take him home."
O'Hare immediately collapsed to the floor and started wailing. I left him there and got Boris home. But the entire drive, Boris was throwing his best friend under the bus, saying it was O'Hare's fault this and that happened. I told him that wasn't nice to do and he'd be better off not talking. When I got to his house, I explained to his parents (both work from home) why he was being returned and that maybe another time, when things calmed down, we could try again. I left to get in my car, and my mobile rang. I thought it was the garage telling me Tonya's car was ready to bring in the Saturn, but no, it was Tonya telling me O'Hare had packed up his backpack and ran away from home. Oi!
"What direction did he go?" I asked, and she told me she didn't know he left until Guido came and told her, so she did not know and could not see him from the bottom of our neighbour's driveway, and not having her car, she couldn't go look. Meanwhile, in the background, I can hear my younger son asking if he can have O'Hare's bed and his toys. Oi, the child. "Ok, I'll go now," I said to her and started back towards my house.
I was two blocks away from my abode when who do I see walking along the side of the road, facing towards oncoming traffic but me son. I pull over on the other side of the road and tell him I am proud he's walking in that direction so he can see any oncoming cars. He was standing there glowering at me when a car pulled up behind him with a couple in it, and she shouted, asking O'Hare if he was all right and was that man (meaning me) bothering him and, worse, trying to pick him up.
Well, what do you think he said. YUP, he did.
"I'm his father," I said as she informed me she had called the police. Did we really need the police in this? Oi, oi, oi!
"Is this man your father?" The woman asked him, and he reluctantly said yes, I sorta looked like him. Gees!
Here, I thought they were stalking him, and they thought I was doing the stalking. They were only looking out for him, I learned, once the police arrived. I tell ya, kids!
I explained to these good Samaritans what had happened, and of course, I was getting no help from the interruptions to the story by O'Hare with HIS version. Meanwhile, a few cars would pass, all slowing down and asking if some trouble was going on. Oi, oi, oi!
Finally, the police cruiser comes on the scene, and the officer gets out and asks O'Hare if he is all right. Yes, he is. He's leaving home, he informs the man. And where was he going? To Alexis Lane, just up the road. To who's house? He didn't know, but to someone who would be good to him and give him a good home.
Oh my GOD! He sounded like a lost puppy and made me and Tonya sound like the most awful parents in the world because we committed the ultimate sin of sending his best friend home for bad behaviour.
So the cop tells the couple in the car not to go anywhere; he wants to talk to them but crosses over to me. Has me get out of my car, show him my license and registration and then asks me if there is trouble at home. Well, of course, there be I stupidly say, "We have THIS situation going on."
"No, are you still with the child's mother?"
"My wife? Yes, I see what you are asking; no, there be no trouble at home; we are together. Everything is fine."
He had me explain what happened that the young child would take it upon himself to leave home, and then once done, I said to him, "Do you think you can talk to him?"
"Oh yeah, I intend to."
Then he returns to the other side of the road and gets a statement from the two in the car. He sends them on their way and puts O'Hare in the back of the cruiser to talk to him. Well, this was not the fun thing of being in a police car playing pretend. This was being in a police car with a cop telling you the harm of running away. He even gives him a card with a telephone number of where to call if this happens again and the young one needs to talk.
I'm listening to this as I lean on my car, thinking, can we get any more dramatic? Can we blow this anymore out of proportion?
O'Hare is returned to me, and we go home. Now he's upset because the police came, and he didn't like being told off in the cruiser.
"He wasn't told off," I said to Tonya, "he was firmly told of the dangers of walking down country roads by himself and the worry he would bring to us, not to mention the entire community."
Tonya's reaction was that to keep us from being investigated by social services, we needed to ask the school counsellor to talk to O'Hare. In other words, we make the first move before they do, so we are responsible parents.
"We are responsible parents," I protested.
"You and I know that, but it doesn't take much in this day and age." She shot back.
There was no need for this, and I tried to talk her out of it, but from being in the school system, she'd seen a lot and yadda, yadda, yadda. So, the small concern became a bigger one. Because O'Hare is enrolled in a summer arts programme for smart kiddos, when I dropped him off, I spoke to the art teacher and told her the story. She said, "They will all threaten or try that once, and then that's it." But I told her if the counsellor would talk to him, my wife would feel better.
"Is there trouble at home?" She asked me concerned.
OI! Here we go again!
Well, a week went by, and I found out the counsellor never got around to talking to O'Hare (that's how important they took this), and then when I said forget it, I found that morning they called him in, and all the forgotten drama came alive once more. Not only was O'Hare interviewed, but the woman called in Boris, who was also enrolled, to find out "his truth," we already know that the Me child would blame everything on O'Hare, which he did. THIS testimony was so bad they wanted to recommend professional counselling for O'Hare. I was like, what the feck? But before they'd do that, they asked me AGAIN if everything was all right at home. WHAT? AGAIN? SERIOUSLY?
Tonya, when hearing this, marched herself into the school and, being a teacher at another school, had some clout and told them what they could do with their recommendations. So far, no word from anyone about anything.
I said to her, how could this have happened over something so stupid. Could it be blown out of any more proportion than it already was? I tell ya!
Gabe
Copyright © 2012 All rights reserved
1 comment:
What our children put us through hey? LOL
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