October 30, 2008

When the inevitable question was posed, Who's fixing dinner? instead of the usual spousal debate, all I had to say was:

"43 6th graders"

No, not all day, in the same room at the same time.


update 10/31:

Sorry for the incoherent grammar-deficient post*. In an effort to appease one of my 1/2 dozen readers is the following presentation of Who's Fixing Dinner II, The Clarification Edition:

When the inevitable, as in always, predictably due to being creatures of habit and in need of sustenance for our physical bodies, every night around 5-ish in the evening, sometimes earlier if we did the brunch thing or later if we had a late lunch down at the mall or if the boys, one or both or even all three, had practice that evening, question was posed, Who's fixing dinner?, or some variation of the query, including but not limited to What are you making, what's in the fridge, what do you have planned, where are you taking me, and sometimes, but rarely I have a little cash, instead of the usual spousal debate (transcript of actual debate, repeated countless times word for word, so help me God and ask my children if you don't believe me because they plan on having it engraved on our headstones:

She: So, who's fixing dinner (or some variation, see above)?
Me: What would you like?
She: What do you want?
Me (sweetly, with nothing but the desire to make her happy shining in my eyes and dripping from my voice): Whatever you want, my love.
She: What do you want?
Me (with only the satisfaction of her desires in mind and heart): Whatever you want, my love.
She: What are my choices?
Me: What do you feel like having?
She: I dunno, what do you want?
Me (while looking desperately at my sons, hoping one of the boys does something even remotely wrong so I can thump him upside the head and with one thump conceivably accomplish two goals, the first of which is to take out my frustration on a kid who probably deserves a thump anyway, I just haven't found out what he's done yet, and secondly to disrupt the inane conversation long enough that She actually tells me what she wants for dinner, or looks away for long enough for me to escape): Aaaaaahhhhh!!!!!!

...all I had to say was:

"43, as in more than double 20, which is more than plenty already, thank you very much, 6th graders, the kind of children between the ages of 10 - 11 with the beginnings of puberty's hormonal rushing chaos sprouting up somewhere deep inside, unbeknownst to most of them, unless their parents bought them a book or they are allowed to watch 2 1/2 Men"

No, lucky me, not all day, in one room because unfortunately I could not lock half of them outside the room, at the same time, as in at the same with me, otherwise I would not have been witness to this 7th level of hell.


Then again, there is Who's Fixing Dinner? The (censored) Uncensored Edition:

When the inevitable question was posed, What the %&$#%'s for dinner? Instead of the usual spousal debate all I had to say was:

"40 %$#$-3 %$#&^ 6th %&^$#@# graders in 1 %$&&# room!

"Oh yeah, "Mr &%$#@^ Mom" without a %$&*^ job for 2 &%$%^# years while I've worked my &%%$#@ off, get your %^%$# in the kitchen!"


(ed note: he would never talk to The Wife that way, nor she him. although she does give mighty powerful glares. and if he did ever talk to her that way, you'd all be on Travelocity right now comparing prices of flights out west, and dusting off your somber black outfit.

*after all, they were 6th graders. 43 of 'em


Slim said...

Did you teach home economics? Does that even exist anymore? Or is this some obscure reference to baseball that I've missed?

Slim said...

First of all, I have to say, it's quite eerie...that same conversation takes place in my house at dinner time as well.

Second of all, your carification is not exactly clear...are there sentences in there?! Here's what I THINK you're saying. You substituted and had 43 sixth graders in a room...so you were a little too tired/stressed/bedraggled/'deer in the headlights like' to actually make dinner?

And I also have that glare of which you speak. It's been known to bring children to tears.

JK said...

Yes, there were 43 of 'em, I counted several times. My dinner solution was simple and to the point, but it came in green bottles with warning lables that suggested strongly it wouldn't be a good idea to serve it to the entire family.

And the glare, for some strange reason, is reserved solely for moi.

ps. is that how you spell "solely"?

Slim said...

How many adolescents do you suppose equal 43 6th graders? It's a hard call...I'm thinking it's less because the hormone surge is greater. But I can tell you that just 2 of them can occasionally send me to my own bottle which is a little bigger than yours and has a nice burgundy colored abrosia within. You have absolutely proven yourself capable of teaching if you were in charge of 43 6th graders and everone made it out alive. Bravo!

And I'm not the person to ask about spelling...merriam-webster.com gets a LOT of hits from me.