All Wet

I'd been playing basketball with Pete and Youngest yesterday before school. It is a regular session as follows: a team of seven third graders against a team of seven second and first graders. Pete stands near the basket and tries to block third grade shots and then send the ball back to the younger kids' team. Mostly, I try to stop the third graders from roughing the other kids and from having far too many kids on the court at one time.

Yesterday, there were only six of the younger kids playing, so I was also in the game, using my extreme height to my only advantage. I will deal with the older kids being rough in kind: I will put them in a bear hug and try to tickle them. Or I will yell, as is my typical practice as a yard duty supervisor.

[Have I mentioned how often I run into a kid with her/his parent out and about town and the kid will yell, "Hi, Yard Duty!" only everyone only ever seems to hear "doody" as in "dog doody"?]

The bell rings, and I'm hanging with Pete and Youngest while Youngest waits to enter his classroom. One of the tough-guy third graders, the scrawniest of the bunch, walks up to me, smiles, and stomps in a puddle that I'm standing next to, getting my piece-of-crap, ripped-to-shreds jeans wet.

WTF, kid?

I am livid, and I drag his sorry ass down to the principal's office because I'm gonna bench the asshole for the rest of the day.

When I go later to visit Youngest at lunch, the principal gives me this. I can't help but laugh.