I was only sort of listening to her tiny, one-sided conversation.  “Are you hungry, Baby Beth?  Here you go, Baby Beth.  Have some pizza.  It’s yummy.”

After a moment, cheerful chattering gave way to a stern lecture.  “You in time out, Baby Beth.  NO, NO, Baby Beth.  Dat’s not nice.”  The scolding continued, culminating in something I wasn’t quite sure I’d heard correctly.

I was only half-listening, after all.

I turned around.  “Miss T,” I asked, “why is Baby Beth in time out?”

“Because,” came the answer, plain as day.  “She punched me in the nuts.”

What, you’ve never had one of those?

I ordered my textbooks online through Amazon last week and one arrived yesterday.  I skimmed through it and was immediately transported back into my very first sociology class, a place where I was introduced to the word “paradigm” and didn’t have a clue what was actually being discussed. I’m one of those people who would show up to lecture, half-ass the assigned reading and somehow manage to BS my way through the exam just enough to squeak by with a passing grade.  Honestly, it’s a wonder I have a bachelor’s degree, considering my astounding lack of study skills.

I’m someone who reads crappy romance/mystery novels – like the ones by Nora Roberts and Mary Higgins Clark – on the rare occasion that I actually sit down and read a book.  Do you know when I feel like I have time for that?  On airplanes.  In hotel rooms before I go to bed.  That’s about it.  Reading actual informative books – and comprehending them – is going to be a rude awakening.  As is eschewing my evening glass of wine and mindless TV for some serious study time.

I am fortunate enough to have a wonderful, supportive husband that takes an equal role in raising our kids.  But there are things that I must do that he won’t (because I am a control freak and also rather anal), or other things that he could do but doesn’t think about because they don’t bother him.  Things like the laundry, setting out clothes for the next day, vacuuming more than is strictly necessary, cleaning the cat box, straightening up the kids’ rooms, putting away rogue toys, etc., etc., etc.  So I am going to have to learn to ask for help when I need it, and also to lighten up a little.  A year from now, is it really going to matter that Miss T’s various dollhouse components didn’t get put away before I went to bed?  Settle down, self.

Not to mention all the other regular tasks that will still have to get done.  Cooking dinner, grocery shopping, going to the gym, going on occasional out of town trips to visit my nonagenarian grandmothers…none of these things will stop being important just because I have homework to get done.

I’m going to need another twelve hours in each day.

I have no doubt that I can do this.  Anyone who knows me in real life can attest to exactly how stubborn I am.  Hell, I ran a half-marathon powered primarily by sheer force of will.  Prior to running those 13.1 miles in San Francisco, the furthest I’d ever gone was 6.7.  But I did it.  If I want something, I go after it full-throttle and won’t stop until it’s mine.  I’m not worried about that at all.

It’s going to be hard.  Probably harder even than I’ve prepared myself for.  I ran into a professor I know at the grocery store on Sunday.  He had been kind enough to write me a letter of recommendation when I applied to ASU and so has an understandable interest in whether or not I succeed.  “Gotten started with those graduate classes yet?” he asked.  “Next week,” I replied.  “Remind me, do you have kids?” was his follow-up question.  When I answered, “Yeah, two of them, not quite 8 and 2 1/2,” he looked impressed.  “All that and you’re still planning to work full time?  Good luck,” he said sincerely. “You’ll need it.”

Thanks for that, dude.  Now I’m even more panicked than I was before.  I’m coping by telling myself that his graduate work was in HIGH ENERGY PHYSICS.  Of course it was a challenge.  GAAAAAAH.

But beyond the nerves, trumping the stress – is the excitement.  God, y’all, I’m so excited.  This is what I’ve always wanted.  It took me a lot of years to figure that out, and the path I chose is not the most direct, but this is what I am meant to do.

And I can’t wait to see where it takes me.

Zombieland - I really didn’t think I’d like it at all.  I’m not a Woody Harrelson fan.  In fact, I’m anti-Harrelson.  So much so that my Netflixed copy of the movie sat there for two months (TOTALLY making the $15/month subscription worthwhile) before N and I finally decided to give it a go.

And guess what?  WE LOVED IT.  BOTH of us.  Huzzah!

It opens with one of my favorite Metallica songs…I chose to focus on that rather than the significant blood and gore.  I’ve got a strong stomach – and a long-standing fondness for horror movies – but holy jeebus, you know?  I wasn’t sure I was going to make it past the first ten minutes, but it was a little less gory after that.

Anyway, as it turns out, there’s a lot to enjoy.  Harrelson’s character isn’t a total jerk – well, maybe he is a little.  But I liked him anyway.  It was funny, and smart, and moved along at a great clip.  And as an added bonus there’s a “reveal” at the end which I personally thought was cool (though I am one of a very specific population subset that would have cared).

In general, anything that both N and I actively enjoy automatically gets an A+.  If you can handle the gore (most of which has a comic book-esque feel), Zombieland is an absolute must-see.

War - Ugh, was watching this one ever a debacle.  It was next up in my queue after Zombieland, and didn’t have to wait nearly as long to be popped in the DVD player.  After all, it’s got everything:  fast action, flashy cars, hard-core martial arts and Jason Statham.  And with no chance that N would care anything about it, I could fire it up at will without waiting on him to “be in the right mood” to watch with me.  What could go wrong?  (Hint: as your high school English teacher would point out, this is called foreshadowing.)

Everything was fine for the first 10 minutes or so, then the disc started causing me problems – it was dirty and scratched up, and it began to take serious coaxing to  convince our persnickety DVD player to keep at it.  (Fastforward.  Pause.  Restart chapter.  Fastforward.  COME ON, PLEASE.)  Eighteen minutes into the movie I had to throw in the towel.  The disc was just too badly damaged and I had to request a replacement copy.  The new copy arrived while I was out of town for a week and a half, again making excellent use of our Netflix membership.  FINALLY I had time to try again.  Replacement disc goes in and the DVD player just flashes “DISC IS TOO DIRTY”.  WTF.  We’ve owned that DVD player for nine years (!) and it has NEVER said that before.* So I take it out, scrub it down with my shirttail, curse mightily at my fellow Netflix members, who are apparently too irresponsible/lazy/stupid to take care of DVDs that don’t belong to them (N says: This surprises you why?), and put it back in.  TWENTY MINUTES LATER, the stars align, I get things going and manage to pick up where I’d left off two weeks before.

The rest of the movie played without incident, and then it was over.  Just like that.  SO abruptly, in fact, that I actually screeched at the TV “THAT’S IT?!  I WENT THROUGH ALL THAT FOR THAT CRAP ENDING?!”  N found the whole scenario wholly amusing, I cursed at Netflix some more for good measure and sulked the rest of the night.  The end.

In short:  I WANT THOSE HOURS OF MY LIFE BACK.

Salt -After running in the San Francisco Marathon (I did the half, N did the full, more on that later if I ever get around to it), we were far too exhausted to contemplate doing anything other than sitting.  A nice movie in a comfy theater seemed like a good idea.  The original plan was to see Inception but it was sold out.  Salt was Plan B.

Not bad at all.  It certainly didn’t do anything to change my opinion of Angelina Jolie as a badass.  She’s gorgeous and sexy and awesome.  Liev Schreiber is a great actor and perfectly suited for his role.  The plot and script were just so-so,  but the whole movie was adrenaline-charged enough to keep me interested the entire time.  The actor they had playing Salt’s husband was pretty creepy and gross, but thankfully his scenes were limited.  Overall, it was well-casted and decently-acted. 

Final verdict:  An enjoyable watch and something I could probably sit through again, though I have no desire to buy it when it comes out on DVD.

The Other Guys – Normally I’m not in a rush to see comedies in the theater.  When you have 2 kids, going to the movies becomes rediculously expensive by the time you pay the babysitter so we usually reserve that honor for something that will be noticably different on the big screen.  (Case in point: Prior to seeing Salt when we were in SF sans kids, the last movie we went to go see was Star Trek.  Yes.)

But Mark Wahlberg is adorable and Will Farrell is hilarious, so when the opportunity presented itself (read: when in The Swamp and grandparents were available for kid duty) I dragged him to the local theater (where we know the manager and can get in for free.  Bonus!).

When watching a comedy, there’s always the risk that all the funny parts were used in the TV promos and trailers and the actual movie won’t be all that great.  And since I have a grandma-like sense of humor, there’s alway the additional chance that there will be so much crude toilet humor that I won’t be able to get past it.  But The Other Guys did not disappoint.  The whole thing was just as laugh-out-loud hilarious as the trailers.  Will Farrell was just doing his usual shtick, of course – he’s kind of a one-trick pony in my opinion but that doesn’t stop it from being hysterical.  Mark Wahlberg and Michael Keaton were great complements to Farrell and really stole the show. 

The casting just worked – Farrell was perfect for the role of doofy police accountant, and Wahlberg was a great choice as his reluctant partner.  They bantered well, and the jokes were easy and none of the humor seemed too forced.  You can tell a lot of Farrell’s lines were improv, but that’s what he does best.

Very, very funny.  I highly recommend.  Even N (who I have noticed seems to actually be the person reviewing every movie that I see, if by proxy) laughed out loud quite frequently, and since he is the world’s most stoic movie-watcher I think that’s high praise.  Go.  Now.  I promise,you won’t be sorry.

*The very next movie in my Netflix queue was Without a Paddle,which I cannot currently review for you as I have not yet seen it, because I am waiting on my replacement copy, BECAUSE THE DVD I RECEIVED WAS SO BADLY DAMAGED THAT MY DVD PLAYER DID NOT EVEN RECOGNIZE IT.  NO DISC, IT SAID.  PLEASE INSERT A DISC.  NETFLIX, YOU ARE ON NOTICE.

I’ve never been to Rhode Island before, and in fact haven’t spent a lot of time in New England at all, so this has actually been a fun experience for me (hours of meetings notwithstanding.  But in all honesty, even the meetings weren’t bad – it’s nice to talk shop with colleagues from other institutions, you know?  ANYWAY).  I hit it off with a woman from Buffalo, and we ended up going out to dinner last night with a group of ladies from the Boston area (one of whom was a transplant from Ireland, so her accent was extra-fun).  It seems that quite a few of the conference attendees are from Boston and the surrounding areas, and I love listening to them talk.  I’m sure they probably feel the same way about me because try as I may, “y’all” keeps flying out of my mouth far more often than it normally would.

I’ve had excellent New England clam chowder, scallops that were among the best I’ve ever had, and a fabulous shrimp pasta.  The seafood options alone make coming here worthwhile, is what I’m saying.

I spent a pleasant (if surprisingly warm) afternoon walking around town taking pictures after the conference ended today.   I had a very nice chat with the poor lonely park ranger at Roger Williams National Memorial, and he gave me the scoop on where to go and what to see.  Providence is pretty small, and I was able to cover a lot of ground in just a few hours.  There are tons of gorgeous Colonial-era buildings, and an impressive amount of hills.  So in addition to a crash lesson in Rhode Island history, I was able to get in my daily workout at the same time.

The one downside of the trip (other than being lonely – I’d be having way more fun if N had been able to come) has been the complete lack of internet access in my hotel room.  N swears, the nicer the hotel, the crappier the internet service.  That seems to hold true here – it’s $9.95/day to get access in the rooms, and it isn’t wireless.  And OF COURSE the cable they provide doesn’t work with my computer.  So if you would like to know where I am sitting to bring this post to you – that would be the hotel lobby, where there IS free wi-fi.  I swear, the sacrifices I make for you people.

Here – since I’m already making sacrifices, enjoy some photos.  They were taken with my iPhone (the only camera I brought), and I had to e-mail each one to myself individually because the phone cable is back in my room.  You are welcome.

Scene: My cubicle at the office, around 10 a.m.  My mom called to ask a question.

Mom: I’m sorry to bother you at work, but I need to know what that thing is called that my friends gave me at my retirement party.

Me: That wine tasting cup?  I have no idea.  Why?

Mom: Yeah, that.  I’m trying to write thank you notes and want to refer to it by name.  Didn’t someone call it something that started with an s?  Somm-something?

Me: Sommelier?  That’s not the cup, that’s the guy that uses it.

Mom: Are you sure?  Then what’s the other thing called?

Me: I don’t know, why don’t you just call it a wine tasting cup?

Mom: Because I want to know what it is really called.

Me: Fine.  Let me google it.  [hoping my nearby coworkers are enjoying their impromptu wine lesson]  Here we go, it’s a Tastevin.

Mom: A what?

Me: It’s pronounced taht-VAHN.

Mom: Okay…how do you spell that?

Me: T-A-S-T-E-V-I-N.

Mom: T-A-S-T-B-I-N.

Me: No!  T-A-S-T-EEEEEEEE-V-as-in-Victor-I-N.  [acutely aware that at least 6 people can clearly hear my end of the conversation]

Mom: T-A-S-T-V-I-N.

Me: [getting annoyed]  Mother!

Coworker with adjoining cubicle: [unable to keep from laughing any longer]

Me: You do realize that my coworkers can hear me and probably now think I am insane.

Mom: Oops. [laughing]  I’m sorry!  One more time.

Me: Taste.  Vin.  V-I-N.

Mom: Oh!  So like you’re tasting wine.

Me: [bangs head against desk]

I owe you a sincere thanks for not ticketing my dumb ass as it sped merrily through a 45 mph work zone at 60 miles an hour.  While, um, talking on my cell phone.  I deserved that ticket and we both knew it.  Although to be honest, I’m just glad you didn’t clock me five minutes before, when I was flying low at nearly 90.

However, you were kind enough to make me a deal:  if I listened to your brief lecture on the dangers of speeding – especially through construction areas – you’d let me off with a written warning.  This time.

And that, my good sir, is the best deal I’ve been offered in quite a while.

Thanks again, A grateful new law-abiding citizen

*****

Dear Professor Old:

I’m trying to help you.  Really I am.  However, I have to admit that I’m getting a little frustrated.  We’re talking in circles here.

I told you that I’ll take care of getting the letter that you need.  I promise, I will.  That’s part of my job.  And I guarantee that I will get it signed by our authorized organization representative, a person who is also known as an AOR.

But here’s the thing.  You keep tossing around “AOR”, constantly, in every single e-mail that you send, and to quote Inigo Montoya: You keep using that word, and I do not think it means what you think it means.  Yet you continue to emphasize the necessity.  It’s really the priority at this point, you e-mailed me, to get the AOR.

And while I’d love to oblige, something tells me that my boss may object to being gotten.  As I’ve tried to explain, the AOR is a person.  You can get the AOR’s signature.  You can get the AOR a cup of coffee.  However, you cannot get the AOR.

We won’t even discuss the convoluted manner in which you’re approaching your budget preparation, or the fact that I don’t have a clue how to submit your proposal in the first place.  But none of that matters anyway, because as you’ve pointed out repeatedly – the main thing is just to get the AOR.

Best of luck, NonSoccerMom

*****

Dear Cat:

If you don’t shut your face, I’ll be forced to shut it for you.  Just a gentle word of warning.  FTLOG.

Thanks much, Your incredibly disgruntled owner

*****

Dear Miss T:

I love you dearly, you know that, so I just need to throw this out there:

It is really, really embarrassing when I’m carrying you into a public place for you to have your arms wrapped around my neck while loudly yelling, “I want my Mommy!  I want my Mommy!”

Love, YOUR MOTHER

Over Memorial Day weekend, N and I went to Baltimore for his college roommate’s wedding.  We hadn’t seen a lot of his friends in years (since the last one of them got married in San Antonio five years ago, probably), so it was nice for N to get the chance to catch up.  He hung out with them both nights we were there, leaving me alone in a hotel room.  Which was fine, I’m certainly capable of entertaining myself (which in this case consisted mainly of watching TV and tweeting about having forgotten to pack pajamas).

Unfortunately I also forgot to pack a necklace for the wedding, which bothers me every time  I look at this picture.  Oh well.

The reception venue was very pretty, the appetizers were yummy and the wine was free-flowing.  So even though I don’t know most of N’s high school/college buddies very well (and was the only wife in attendance) I still had a nice time.  Beyond the wedding, we managed to sneak a little sight-seeing into a very quick, but quite enjoyable trip.

Then I had a few days to recover before the very next weekend, when it was time for another wedding.  My brother-in-law (Bill) got hitched in League City, Texas.  N was the best man, AE was one of the ring bearers and Miss T was a flower girl, so everyone got the chance to get all dressed up.

AE is not happy about having his wee sister on his lap at the rehearsal.  “Can we please go now?”

After a while, Miss T was done with the rehearsal too, and as you can see was being difficult when it came to having her picture  made.  It is not easy to hold that kid when she wants to be put down.

Personally, I think my kids were the cutest little wedding attendants in the history of marriage, but it is possible I’m biased.

It was hotter than hell during the ceremony, but that may have just been a manifestation of my stress since I ended up wrangling children that did not belong to me.  As a general rule, I do not like other people’s kids.  And that is all I have to say about that.

There was plenty of dancing and it certainly seemed like everyone was having a good time.  Although at dinner I did discover my own personal version of hell:  children + rented and/or expensive clothing + chocolate fountain = GAH.  But in the end, all was well, and now I have a new sister-in-law.  Welcome to the family!

Ever since we made it home, I’ve found myself mired down in laundry and playing catch-up at work and just keeping up with life in general.  N and I are taking AE to Denver later this week, so the next few days will be spent getting prepped and ready for that.  Miss T will be spending that time with her beloved Nonna (my mother), but AE is actually in The Swamp at the moment so we’ll have to do the meet-and-swap some time before our flight out on Thursday afternoon.  Anyhoo, all that to say, I very likely won’t be updating again before we return from Denver, so see you on the flip side!

• “xxx mom” – Whatever floats your boat, I guess.
• “mom xxx” – Fine, fine.  Whatevs.  We get it.  Disturbing though it may be.
• “i want to watch, mom and son xxx videos” – I really could have lived my entire life without knowing that people have fetishes like this one.
• “mom home make videos xxx” – Ew.
• “i want suck mom.com” – Just, no.
• “xxx mom movies” – Why?  WHY.
• “mom sucking boy” – OH MY GOD.

The good news is, clearly none of these people found what they were looking for as none of them actually stayed on the site long enough to read anything.  The bad news…well, that should be self explanatory, and if it isn’t, I can’t help you.

Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go take a shower.  Or ten.

Well, that’s it!  That’s the whole post.  I found that single sentence saved in my drafts just now and am wondering why in the hell I bothered to save it.  I’m also wondering what it is that we were supposed to know, exactly.  Hmm.

I don’t really have anything cohesive to write about, but feel sort of obligated to throw something up.  Meh.  Here, have some bullet points:

• AE somehow managed to stab himself in the hand with a pencil on Saturday night.  It was pretty impressive, actually.  He was totally upright and then all of a sudden he was on the ground with a bloody puncture wound.  Fortunately, he seems none the worse for wear, especially when you consider how big of a wuss he can be sometimes.
• Miss T’s gym had their “mini-Olympics” on Saturday.  We still expect her to react to large crowds and/or new situations like her brother would have at that age (or now, if we’re being honest) – slack-jawed and dazed with a complete loss of ability to focus.  However, she did great, showing off her prowess on the various apparatus (apparati?  apparatuses?) and just generally being cute.  All the participants got a T-shirt and a trophy, so she was pretty excited about that.
• I’m swamped at work.  SWAMPED.  I know I say that a lot but OMFG I MEAN IT FOR REALS THIS TIME.  Holy hell.  For every thing I get done 3 more things appear on my desk.  I’ve got people I haven’t heard from in weeks suddenly appearing to submit proposals.  It isn’t just me, either.  Almost every single person in my department is about ready to scream.  I keep hoping that some of the faculty will go away for the summer and give us a break, but so far, no dice.
• N and I are leaving for Baltimore on Friday to go to his college roommate’s wedding.  I’m really looking forward to it.  I love air travel, and weddings, and dressing up, so I win all around!  I’ve got a new dress for the wedding, and MacGyvered a pretty impressive belt solution to my as-yet-unworn rehearsal dinner dress (if I do say so myself).  Pictures of my genius to follow post-wedding, I promise.
• Speaking of MacGyver, I understand that the new MacGruber movie tanked.  BWAHAHAHAHA SERVES THEM RIGHT FOR MAKING FUN OF MY BELOVED MAC.  Ahem.  <——NERD
• I am ridiculously, embarrassingly excited about the NCIS season finale tomorrow night.  (See above re:  nerd.)  But that’s okay!  I will not apologize because it’s a great show.
• August needs to hurry up and get here.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m looking forward to everything we have going on this summer, but my first grad school class begins on August 17 and am really looking forward to getting started.
• I have reserved my spicy chicken sandwich at the local Chick-fil-A on Tuesday, June 1, between the hours of 11 a.m. and 2 p.m.  N made fun of me when I gleefully announced my reservation confirmation, but who will be enjoying  their yummy FREE lunch that day?  This bitch, that’s who.  No free sandwiches for poo-pooing skeptics.  It’s a Doodles the Chicken policy.
• I’m never sure how to end a bullet point list.  So, the end.

Finally I sent his teacher an e-mail.  AE’s father and I are concerned, I said.  Is this normal playground roughhousing, or is something more going on?  As I’m sure you’re aware, it’s hard to get the straight story out of a seven-year-old.

She responded almost immediately.  I was aware that this behavior had happened in the past.  I did not realize it was still going on.  I will speak to the boys right away.  I will make sure it stops.  Thank you so much for bringing it to my attention.

When I picked AE up from school that day, the first thing he did was tell me how his teacher had pulled him aside.  I’m supposed to tell her if Alex S. punches me in the privates again, he exclaimed.  Good, I said. Just remember that it’s not a matter of being a tattletale just to get him in trouble.  Punching you like that is not okay.

I know, Mom, he assured me.

A few weeks passed, in which AE’s reports of Alex S.-based harassment seemed less frequent.  He mentioned a few instances in which the kid had been sent to the principal or put in ISS (in-school suspension), but usually because of some other infraction.   But there were a few times where the punishment was a result of punching AE.  In the privates.  Again.

AE assured me that his teacher was on top of it.  She knows, she saw it happen, she sent him right to the principal.

So I let it go.

But yesterday afternoon at work, my phone rang.  It was an outside number that I didn’t recognize, but I figured it was a faculty member calling me from home.  I answered.

Hello, the voice said, this is AE’s teacher, Ms. B.  I wanted to let you know that there was another incident with the boys today.  During music class, Alex S. hit your AE in the privates yet again. I listened quietly as she continued.  I’m at my wit’s end.  I’ve done everything I can think of to get through to Alex S.  I’ve sent him to the principal, he’s been put in ISS.  I’ve told him to stay away from AE and I’ve discussed things with his mom.  As a mother myself, I know how frustrated you must be.  I just want you to know that I’m doing everything I can, but nothing seems to help.

I know you are, I said, and I appreciate it.  They won’t be in the same classroom again next year, will they?

Absolutely not, she said.  I’ve already turned in my recommendation.  AE is a good kid.  He’s not doing anything to provoke this behavior, Alex S. just seems to have fixated on him for some reason.  The other kids in the class were the ones to tell me today.  AE was just standing there minding his own business.

We talked for a few more minutes and she welcomed me to contact the principal, assuring me that he is aware of the entire situation.  Great, thank you for calling me, I said sincerely.  It was after I hung up that I realized: I have absolutely no idea how to deal with this.  These aren’t the things you think about when you’re pregnant and glowing and buying crib sheets.  These aren’t the things you think about confronting with when your toddler is throwing a fit about dinner options for the eleventy hojillionth time.  I’m not prepared for this.

So what do we do?  N and I discussed it, but really, what are our options?  One of my coworkers – whose children are grown – suggested calling the kid’s mother.  Whatever the school’s doing as punishment clearly isn’t making a difference.  You need to make sure his mother is aware there’s a problem. She’s got a point, but the very idea of calling his mom nearly makes me break out in hives.  I’ve met her before, and she was nice enough, but I can’t even fathom beginning THAT conversation.

Well, then tell AE to hit him back, this same coworker suggested.  Yeah, a few male coworkers chimed in.  He needs to hit Alex S. in the nuts.  That’ll teach him. Surprisingly, my mother – a 30-year teaching veteran – suggested the very same thing.

Okay.  While I do realize that often bullies only understand their own language – in this case, nut-punching – I just don’t think I’m ready to tell my kid that I condone such activities, no matter the situation.  It’s a fine line between standing up for oneself and merely stooping to the bully’s level.  On the other hand, I do think he is old enough to understand if we explained Look, normally we don’t allow such things.  And the school will have to punish you, because it is breaking the rules.  But maybe he’ll get it if he sees how much it hurts.  Maybe he’ll finally leave you alone.

But even if we gave the green light, I don’t think AE would be able to bring himself to do that.  He’s not programmed that way.  He’s not like Alex S.

I don’t know.  That’s what it all boils down to.  The school year is almost over, and with the assurance that the boys won’t be in the same classroom next year, I’m tempted to continue to let it go. It’s just this one kid with a fixation, it’s not like AE is constantly the target of bullying.

Except.

N pointed out something that I hadn’t considered – Alex S. attended the school district’s all-day summer camp last year, just like AE.

So with that realization, now there’s another, louder part of me that’s tempted to e-mail the principal a warning.  Just so you know, I’ve given my child the go-ahead to punch Alex S. in the nuts.  Punish him if you want, but we’re taking him out for ice cream afterward.