(The majority of the following scene should be sung to the tune of The Little Drummer Boy, even when that’s impossible because there are way too many syllables in the stanza leading up to the ba/pa rum bum/pum bum/pum bum/pums.)
Sarah: (Singing, because Zack got the song stuck in her head earlier) Come, they told me, ba rum bum bum bum.
Zack: A newborn King to see, PA RUM PUM PUM PUM.
Sarah: OUR FINEST GIFTS WE BRING, BAAA RUM BUM BUM BBBUM.
Zack: My wife sings the song wrong, PA RUM PUM PUM PPPPUM, RUM PUM PUM PUM, RUM PUM PUM PUM.
Sarah: IT DOESN’T MATTER AT ALL, DUDE, BBBAH RUM BUM BUM BUM.
Zack: The song has P’s not B’s, pa rum PUM PUM PUM.
Sarah: It’s but a minor difference, just like PAMPLET, ba rum bum bum bum.
Zack: IT’S PAMPHLET. With a PH in the middle! PAMPHLET!
Sarah: Nobody says pamphlet. It’s pamplet. Ba rum bum bum bum.
Sarah: Um, thanks for cutting me off, VW Bug. Ugh. Doesn’t that driver know that you’re not supposed to cut of people who drive cars that are similar to your own? We’re both in Volkswagens! Where’s the solidarity?
Zack: Or you could just don’t cutting people off.
Sarah: Don’t cutting people off?!? HAHAHA! Don’t cutting people off!!!
Zack: You know what I meant to say.
Sarah: Don’t cutting people off!
Zack: It’s not that funny.
Sarah: Don’t saying it’s not that funny!
Zack: You can’t blog about this.
Sarah: Don’t censoring me!
<Setting: Sarah has just rubbed lotion onto Zack’s very dry back. She even warmed up the (almost frozen) lotion before she applied it because she’s sweet like that.>
Zack: Thank you, dear.
Sarah: You’re welcome, dear.
Zack: Well, it’s better than ‘dude.’
Sarah: Dude is a term of endearment!
Zack: You call everyone dude!
Sarah: Yeah, people I like!
Zack: Navy Bryan, Jennifer, Josh…
Sarah: Everyone I endear!
Zack: I don’t want to be like everyone else.
Sarah: Okay. Super Dude!
Today I sent three kids home from the nurse’s office at 2:30 in the afternoon. It’s rare that I send kids home that late in the afternoon. Usually if they can survive all the way to 2:30, I ask them to go back to their classrooms and go home at dismissal. Not today, though. Because today, I was following emergency protocol for ingested poisons.
Because today, 3 of the 4th grade boys at my school drank themselves a round of Germ-X shots. That’s Germ-X, as in, hand sanitizer. Why would 3 boys all drink themselves a round of Germ-X shots? I’m glad you asked. They drank them on a dare. On a love dare, no less. Turns out, a certain persuasive 4th grade girl told these particular 3 boys that if they wanted to date her, they were going to have to prove their love. How, oh how could they prove their love? They begged to know. Persuasive Girl’s eye glinted to the corner of the room. Who ever will drink some Germ-X, she told them, obviously really does love me.
And so three 4th grade boys were escorted to my office by their teacher, who informed me with a straight face that these boys were about to be Love Sick in a way that they had never bargained for.
A cell phone conversation:
Me: What are you doing?
Zack: I just got our new dryer out of my car.
Me: By yourself?
Zack, very proud of himself: Yeah.
Me: How did you do that?
Zack: I slid it around using towels.
Me: You’re going to wait for me to try to put it in, right?
(editor’s note: remember how we have a dryer on a shelf?)
Zack: Well, it’s kind of a challenge now.
Me: There’s no way.
Zack: Well, I got in the car okay. It can’t be that much harder.
Me: stunned silence.
Zack: I’m not going to do anything stupid. Or hurt myself. Or hurt our property.
Me: Or you could just wait for me to get home from work.
Zack: Again, it’s a challenge.
Me: Or, really, you could just wait for me.
Zack: We’ll see how it goes.
Me: please, for the love of God, wait for me.
10 minutes later, a text message conversation:
Me: Are you dead yet?
Zack: Got it into the house and the old one down, no problems. Will wait for you to put the new one up.
I’m going to go ahead and chalk that one into the “Sarah Wins” column.
In the house:
Me: “Zack, I have to go to Walgreens, do you want to come?”
Him: “Sure. What do you have to get?”
Me: “Oh, I have to pick up a prescription. (Whispering) And a pregnancy test.”
Him: “And a what?”
Me: “And a pregnancy test.”
Him: Stunned Silence. “Really?”
Me: “Yeah. I’m pretty late.”
Him: “Dear God, If you love us, please, let Sarah be barren.”
In the car on the way:
Him: “What’s with all the baby clothes in the trunk?”
Me: “MP was giving them away, so I grabbed them to give to Sarah1 and the girls.”
Me: “I guess it does look weird, me taking you to Walgreens for a pregnancy test with a trunk full of baby clothes. I bet you were all, ‘Woah, she’s thinking ahead!’”
Him: “Hardly. Babies don’t even need clothes until they’re 2 years old. Before that you can just dress them in paper sacks. It’s not like they’re going to remember it anyway. And if they do, when they turn 2 and you start dressing them in real clothes, they’ll be all, ‘I LOVE YOU, YOU’RE THE BEST FOR GIVING ME THESE SNAZZY CLOTHES!’”
Back home again:
Him: “How long ’til we know if we have to start saving up paper sacks?”
(for the record: not pregnant.)