My second-grade student came running up to me, whining. “Look what Robert stuck on my back!"
It was a sticky note with the words “Kick me, I’m stupid” written on it.
I took Robert aside and lectured him on how to treat people with kindness and the importance of being polite and encouraging.
A few minute later, I heard, “Look what Robert stuck on my back!”
It was that first little boy, holding another sticky note.
This one said, “Kick me, I’m smart.”
On a wintry day, my 90-year-old father was in the supermarket trying to pay for his groceries. Bundled up against the cold, his gloved hands were having trouble retrieving and counting the exact change.
The transaction evidently took too long for the man behind him in line, who muttered a curse.
Dad stopped counting, turned around, and warned, “Be quiet or I’ll write a check.”
It was a typical noisy dinner at my parents’s home, and Dad was having trouble following the conversations. He kept jumping in with off-topic comments and asking for things to be repeated.
I finally told him he needed to get a hearing aid.
Looking at me as if I was crazy, he said, “What would I do with a hand grenade?”
For the second week in a row, my son and I were the only ones who showed up for his soccer team’s practice.
Frustrated I told him, “Please tell your coach that we keep coming for practice, but no one is ever here.”
My son rolled his eyes and said, ”He’ll just tell me the same thing he did before.”
“That practice is now on Wednesdays, not Tuesdays.”