And It Must Be Said

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

Crazy and a Fool

I can’t let my husband, Benji, steal all the substitute-glory goodness. Although his post is funny, I’ll give him that. Still, imagine my predicament: keeping a straight face when you get the verbal waterfall of sub stories after I’ve asked “How was your day, dear?” I try to be sympathetic. I do try.

A couple of months ago Benji called me one morning from a sub job and needed me to bring him something from home that he’d forgotten. Legitimiately. This wasn’t a “I forgot my lunch, waaah” kind of thing. Still.

I am furious. A. ) Because I was reading my Bible and was angry I was getting interrupted. B.) Because I am a huge planner and now I will take 30 minutes out of my day to bring him this thing that he forgot. C.) Just plain in a bad mood.

I’ll spare you the details of the conversation, but lets just say it included a lot of “you always,” “You never,” and a variety of other comments that our reader really doesn’t need to hear.

I was pissed.

So I grab this thing he needs, get in the car, drive the 12 minutes to the school, and wait. And wait. Still waiting. I call him on his cell phone.

“Where are you?!”
“I can’t leave the class.”
“If you even THINK that I am walking in there...”
“Hang on, I'll send a student.”


Adorable little 9 year old come walking up to the car. She knocks on my window.

I roll down the window.

“Are you Mr. B’s wife?”
Sigh. Much too long of a pause. “Yes.”
She hands me a piece of paper.
“He says to tell you he’s crazy and a fool.”
She doesn’t crack a smile. Neither do I. Then I laugh because I can’t help it. Of course he sends this adorable kid because he knows I won’t cuss her out.
“Tell him he’s right.”

I hand her the stuff and drive away. Then I read the nice note which goes on and on about him being crazy and a fool and I am a little less angry by the time I get back home.

So that is my story about how my husband uses small children to do his dirty work.