Precious Italian Cargo

One of the other second grade teachers is away this week skiing in Italy.

Yup. That's right.. .

I said it.

Skiing. 

Italy.

She sucks. 

I'm moving on. 

Here's the story of the day. 

One of my boys came to me this afternoon and said that there was another student in the bathroom playing around. 

Apparently something about mountains of soap ending up on the floor. 

 .. .Another gentleman from Italian skier's class was the culprit. 

This young man is infamous for his behavior. 

So I needed to step in and help the sub a bit. 

I asked my student to call him out of the bathroom and let him know I needed to talk to him. 

So out he walks slowly, head down. eyes following his footsteps. 

He stopped. but several feet away. 

That wasn't close enough for me.

I like 'em good and close so they can smell the cafeteria lunch on my breath.  

"Come closer."

He took a few more steps. 

"Nope.. .closer..." 

"Nope. closer yet." 

Eyes still at the floor.

"Look at me."

I didn't even mention anything about the hilltops of foam soap that apparently had been formed on the tile floor. 

All I said was "I wanted to make sure that you have been on your best behavior while Mrs. -- --- is gone. How is it going?" 

"Good, so far." 

"So far? Why do you say it like that?" to which I couldn't help but giggle a little. 

"I don't know. .." he shrugged.

He quickly started sputtering.. . "All I was doing in the bathroom was putting toilet paper on the seat before I went to the bathroom. .." Then continued to trail on and on. 

I was listening but I couldn't help but smile so very big.. . [this is when I start to kinda tear up and wanna just pick them up and 
love on em - what's wrong with me? ]  I asked if he washed his hands real good. 
He answered and then went right back to his classroom.
All while his teacher is up in the mountains of Italy. 

How is it possible that the silliest moments are sometimes the best at giving you a dose of reality?

These soap mongers .. . the ones that call your name a hundred times a day and interrupt incessantly -  seeming sometimes like the loudest possible things on the planet ARE still little babies who are learning to cover toilet seats and tie their shoe laces. 

I can't forget that. 

I mustn't forget that.