I love teaching at the same school where Superman is a thriving first grader.
Being able to sneak in hugs and kisses as he passes me on his way to art class.
Watching as he outruns his friends during a game of monster tag during recess.
Listening as his teacher sings his praises as a natural and gifted reader while eating lunch in the staff room.
Taking special Mother and Son spring portraits, his arm draped over my shoulder, our posed smiles glistening in perfect unison.
Hearing him shout “Oh SH!%!!!”* as he rounds the corner of the snack area and almost eats it in the mud.
The only consolation for me tonight is that I get to bust him twice.
Once, as Mrs. Ashline, the mild-tempered but no-nonsense kindergarten teacher who happened to overhear a naughty word come out of a young student’s mouth and took swift yet fair action to ensure it does not happen again.
And a second time as Mom, the frazzled, overworked, underpaid, crazy B*** who cannot believe her son would say something like that, and who will spend the rest of the evening alternating between belligerent tirades and guilt-infused sobbing to ensure her son considers anything more than “Oh purple petticoats; this is an unfortunate set of circumstances that are making me feel slightly less joyful than three seconds prior” a cuss word.
*For the record, I know exactly who he learned this word from and all I can say to those parents, is Good. Freakin. Luck.