I remember my dad saying “I’ve got your number” several times throughout my childhood. This meant that he had me figured out and I couldn’t outsmart him. As I’ve grown up and become a parent myself I like to think that I can outsmart each one of my own children. However, I’m afraid Judah’s “got my number”.
Let me preface this by saying that I volunteer one day a week in Judah and Josie’s classroom. I’m not in the PTA, I don’t volunteer to help with the talent show, or the bake sale, or the field trips (that’s Andy’s specialty). I faithfully help one day a week from September to June and that is my contribution. Sure, I may not win parent volunteer of the year award, but whatever.
I’ve always felt like this is plenty, but Judah apparently feels otherwise. A couple of weeks ago he came home from school informing me of a new way I would be helping out in his class on April 17th.
“So, we’re having a restaurant party in my class and I signed you up to bring spaghetti carbonara.”
“Wait, what? I’ve heard nothing of this restaurant party and are other parents bringing something?” I asked worried.
“Yeah, everyone’s bringing something. You’ll get an email from my teacher.”
Hold on a second. Since when does he decide what I do and don’t volunteer for? Spaghetti carbonara? Seriously? Not cookies, or fruit, or juice. But a main dish. I didn’t like it. Maybe he had his information confused. I decided not to bring it up again and wait for it to go away.
But then the food assignments came home. Every other kid was assigned to the basics for any class party; cookies, fruit, carrots, juice, plates, utensils… But there it was staring me down next to Judah’s name. Spaghetti carbonara. I don’t know why it didn’t just say ‘Judah’s mom-the only parent whose kid signed them up to make a main dish.’
“Mrs. Feaster and I were thinking that since you’re the only one bringing food that needs to be served warm, it would be a good idea for you to bring it in a crock pot and then you can serve it from there.”
“Oh, you and Mrs. Feaster were thinking?… How about thinking to ask me first? Let me get this straight, not only did you sign me up to make food without asking, but now I have to deliver and serve it?” Where did this child come from?
“Oh don’t worry, Mrs. Feaster is going to send you an email with all the details,” and off he went.
Sounded to me like he had already taken care of most of the details. I received said email later that day thanking me for signing up to help out with the restaurant party. If I could show up at 11:30, help serve and clean up, that would be great. You know what would be great? Sending a box of cookies to school with Judah and calling it a day.
The night before, Judah asked, “When are you going to make the spaghetti carbonara?”
“I’ll make it in the morning, Judah. It’s not going to be any good if I make it the night before. Don’t worry.” Off my back. I know what I’m doing.
First thing the next morning, “Where’s the spaghetti carbonara?”
“I’m going to make it after I drop you off at school. Relax, I haven’t forgotten.” He doesn’t believe I’m actually going to do it.
I stayed true to my word, or I should say I stayed true to his word, and showed up to room 11 at 11:30 with warm spaghetti carbonara in a crock pot. I served it with a smile. I can’t say I wasn’t a little proud when kids came back for seconds. Judah did it alright. He knew I’d never sign up for that task on my own, so he took matters into his own hands.
“I knew it would be a hit,” Judah said to me, smiling. Well played, Judah. Well played.
|There I am, doing just what I was told to do.|
|Look at that sneaky little smile. And who’s the parent that got away with supplying full cans of soda to 3rd graders?|