The Truth About Analogies

I'm BACCCCKKKK.

Sorry. For you.

Me? Glad to be among the land of the living, home of the semi-free.

I've been in "What have I gone and done?" mode now for going on five days. What, I'm sure you are wondering, did I go and do THIS TIME?

I pulled the most unimaginable stunt ever: I agreed with Mike to withdraw one of the kids from school. With seven full weeks of classes left. And I'm home schooling.

(Cue music from the shower scene in Psycho. Less all the blood. At least for the moment.)

I'm not going into details here*, but sufficeth to say, this wasn't an easy decision and it was only undertaken when tons of prayer yielded this as the only answer to a difficult situation.

So, here we are. Day one. Of thirty-five.**

We're all spread out on the dining room table, adjacent to Mike's office, talking about analogies.

I'm back to my roots as English teacher and loving.every.minute.of.it.

Young apprentice English major? Wishing we were talking quantum physics, revisionist history, ANYTHING but analogies.

Mike? SUPPOSEDLY working. Until the following takes place:

ME: "What is the difference between 'annoyed' and 'furious'?"***

YOUNG STUDENT: "I dunno." (With the energy of a pet rock.)

ME: "Well. Would you expect me to be yelling if I was annoyed?"

YOUNG STUDENT (without inhaling a particle of air, hesitating a millisecond, or creasing his eyebrow): "Yeah."

MIKE (from his office, breaks into gales of laughter. Gut busting laughter. Sarcasm dripping off his perfect nose.): "OK. THAT'S FUNNY! AND TRUE."

ME (more than slightly annoyed): "NO. I wouldn't be yelling if I was annoyed." (voice approaching yelling)

YOUNG STUDENT (just stares at me, with a large crease in his forehead, as if I just announced I am an alien and I'm going to eat him if he doesn't stop making eye contact. NOW.)

MIKE (still laughing from his office): "OOOOHHHHH." He can't even speak he's so captivated by the "honesty". He's reduced to a noise made by birds in backwoods regions of Kentucky. At least THEY can blame the whiskey. Mike? Hasn't got a prayer.

So I did the only "proper" thing a wife could do in this situation: shot him the bird from behind young student's back.

Just then, young student realizes he's made a funny and created laughter. So he looks at his Dad through the glass-paned door and gives a thumbs-up. Then they both start laughing.

The bottom line? If you don't have tolerance for the truth about yourself, don't home school a kid who can punch you in the gut using an analogy.

And don't marry a guy who thinks your obvious shortcomings are oh-so-charming. And yet, simultaneously, downright hysterical.



*Because every one of you who is curious enough to ask will owe me the privilege of being chauffeured (read between the lines: You. Designated Driver.) to a place that serves adult beverages and food so I can retell the tale. That's really all I ask: a pass out of this house for a few measly hours. Not too much, eh?

**No. I'm not counting. That's just factually correct.

***I'm practically salivating that I get to teach this. SO MUCH FRIGGIN' FUN!!!!