*This is a re-post because I am a wimp. Yes, indeed, I am. I posted this and promptly removed it for fear of offending all of the young teenage girls who may have visited my blog after I spoke on purity (of all things) the following day. Here's your official warning, you beautiful young ladies. I wasn't lying when I told you that it's been a while since I entered a high school or opened a locker with a combination. This is how far removed I am from the life of a sixteen year old. Who needs a homecoming queen when you can be a homeschooling dweeb in sixteen more years? Read on if you dare.
** This post will hold no opinions. Not one. It doesn't need any (in my opinion). **
Imagine a happy homeschooling mama snuggled up in an oversized chair with our most recent read-aloud book, Punkin listening intently while wiggling a fresh, loose tooth.
We weren't exactly this happy, but you get the picture.
Knowing that good homeschool moms read old books (why is that?!), I plunged into chapter 5 of Understood Betsy. And all was well until I got to this paragraph and robotically rattled it off verbatim:
The teacher laughed. "You aren't any grade at all, no matter where you are in school. You're just yourself, aren't you? What difference does it make what grade you're in?"...
"Well, for goodness' sakes!" ejaculated Elizabeth Ann...
Far too discerning for her own good, Punkin perked immediately at one uncensored word. "What's that mean?"
I squirmed. I giggled. And I lied.
"I said, 'exclaimed.'"
The giggle gave me away. "Nuh-huh," she spouted knowingly.
What's a mama to do?
Do you correct your children when they play nativity and one child is the ass? Do your kids say "gay" when they're happy? Or "queer" when something is odd? Or talk about how pretty the pussywillows are while you try to hide your smirk? Because if you read old books, it's inevitable.