Other than some good ol’ boy showing up on my doorstep yesterday to ask if “dat dere truck’s fer sale, I’s seen it jus’ settin’ dere a few times,” it was an extremely ordinary day. (I told my visitor that the truck was not, in fact, for sale. He seemed perplexed, and reiterated that he’s seen it “jus’ settin’ dere” for a while now, and I assured him that we use our little pick-up for special events like trips to Lowe’s and clearing the brush out of the backyard. Then I wondered why I was justifying our truck usage to a stranger, and bid him a good day and closed the door. Chickadee—who had witnessed the entire thing, including him pulling into the driveway in a blue truck—then asked me why that man wants to buy OUR truck when clearly he already HAS a truck.)
So in the absence of any major expenditures with junior geography scouts (it’s possible that Otto and I will now replace “Gorgonzola!” with “Jakarta is a city in Indonesia!” as our favorite interjection), I bring you, instead, more brilliance from my youngest.
You may recall that Monkey’s gifted class did a unit on Shakespeare, and truly I thought I’d seen everything marvelous there was to see, at the end of that unit. But Monkey has this DELIGHTFUL habit of not bringing any work home for months on end, and then depositing a large stack of papers on the corner of my desk one day with a deep thought like, “Um, my desk was too full,” or “The teacher told me to bring this stuff home.” And I’ll confess that when my desk is a mess I often don’t even notice the stack amidst all of the OTHER crap I’ve got stacked up here.
But this weekend, I conquered the desk monster! I cleaned! I sorted! I threw away an entire garbage bag full of who knows what! And I came across another folder of Shakespeare work done by my darling son.
This time, the class was injected directly into A Midsummer Night’s Dream. And we all know that letter-writing is a creative way to learn and expand your skills, not to mention to amuse your mother.
My dearest love why don’t you love me you are my heart so if you leave me so will my heart. I would jump off a cliff, through a ring of fire, into a tornado, above shark and aligator infested waters for you. Let me have your heart please. I love you not Hermia. this is no joke. I’m tempted. I’ll chase you till you come to a dead end!
(I’m left wondering two things: One, should I be creeped out that Monkey drew hearts all over this page? And two, he’s tempted to WHAT? It’s like a weird little cliffhanger.)
I take your challenge we’ll meet at noon. Get Helena to watch your doom. I’ll take you down stabbing you in the heart. I’ll break your heart in half with glee I’ll injoy my victory. Helena will choose me you see. You might as well just flee the game. Maybe you shouldn’t have a name. I’ll give you a new name it’s loserpants.
(Yes, I vaguely remember the part of the play where Lysander starts going by “Loserpants.”)
You theif why’d you take lysander? You think your so tall and tough well I know what’s tough you treehead! Here’s some more names! blabbermouth! X-friend! maypole! parasite! cankerblossom! theif! blablablablablablablablablablablahead! trickster! ms. tallytall! You took my lysander! You have 5 seconds to give lysander back. Give him back!!
(You have 5 minutes to give back my darling Loserpants, or I’m going to hold my breath until I turn blue.)
There are many things about this school which I do not love, but then so many things which I do. Because, man, that’s some quality literature in the making, right there.