I always hated gym class.
1. because I was afraid my boobs would bounce in front of the boys while doing track and field
2. because this could happen:
and land on your chin apparently.
I always dread getting the call from the school. My heart skips five beats every time I see the school's name pop up on my caller ID. Today the call was made by EVILBOY's gym teacher (who was also my gym teacher when I went to that school many years ago) who told me what happened and that he thought I should come and pick up my injured child who was waiting for me in the office, with a bunch of bloody Kleenex stuck to his lip. He ended the message with "I am sorry to bother you at work, I hope your day is going better than this". Which I thought was really nice.
I think the best part of this whole ordeal was the notes that EVILBOY's class wrote for him while his face was bleeding in the office.
|Silly Bands make anyone feel better. Also, I hope he feels "biter" tomorrow too!|
|The stork was a nice touch. I also hope that EVILBOY can get better because a bruise goatee is probably not very cool when you get older.|
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hello..this is my blog. I bought this fancy theme and I don't know what to write here just yet. Maybe one day remind me I have to write something inspiring here?