Allow me to illustrate –  this morning I took my son to his weekly Early Intervention class.  It’s a class of differently abled kids who need various areas of support, primarily motor and speech.   My little guy loves it.  he calls it his “school” (sounds more like kool) and took 3 apples, one for every teacher, today.  I should say that Massachusetts has an outstanding Early Intervention program and I have been impressed with the speed in which support was obtained and with the quality of instruction.    This is our 3rd class since missing 2 weeks to pneumonia.  Background set.

I asked the assistant teacher if we, the parents, were meant to stay right with the kids or hang back and give them space.  She went into a long winded explanation that ended with saying that we should give them some room but still be attentive and monitor them, duh.  So I said, “Oh, so it’s not okay for me to go out and take a 5 minute smoke break?”  Thinking I’m hilarious, right?!!!  She says, ever so slowly, “Well…if…that’s…what…you…need…to…do.”  Blank stare.   Then there is that moment, right after your joke has hit the ground with a resounding thud, you have to bend over and pick up the jagged chunks and just stay.   I stammered a lame, “Uh, I don’t smoke. Kidding.  Funny.  haaa”  I look at the other parents quickly with a little smile and then move on to my son who had thankfully chosen this moment to bap the head teacher in the face with a pom-pom.  Can you say POM-POM?, Goooood!  Okay, I’ll get back to more buffoonery in the class but let’s cut for a minute to after class, piling into the car happy to be getting out of there and I look over to the car parked a couple down from us and what do I see?  One of the other moms sucking on a butt just staring at me like, “What ya got to say NOW funny lady?”   Making friends everywhere I go.

The last half of the class there is music and circle activities and during one of the action songs the action was dance.  So I bust a move and then I’m coming down from the high of a perfectly executed little pop and lock number ending with the broken robot arm move and I realize that if just one of you was there you would do a little RE-Run move and throw it back to me and we would laugh and I would remember why we were friends but instead I was left wondering if I’m an ass.

And now because I can’t have a photoless post.  Here is a shot from our most recent Fair.  I am not a native New Englander, these people love their fairs.  This was a Fall Harvest Festival with a rummage sale (linen napkins 25 cents, for 6!).  And a goat in a little pen.