I Wouldn’t Come Home If I Were You
“Hi. I’m in a meeting. What’s up?” I whispered after grabbing the phone vibrating across the glass of the conference room table, seeing the caller’s name, and swiping right.
“Okay,” my wife replied. “Your son’s school just called me and he’s visited the principal today. Call me back when you are free,” she said before hanging up.
My son…her word choice told the story. While easy-going and fun-loving, with a low tolerance for drama, I’m not certain where she picked up a penchant for calling me at work with doom and gloom. Heartache, sickness, death, disease, and general carnage, when my phone rings at the office, it can only mean one thing: Mrs. Sojourner is calling to convey a situation over which I have no control and is, on the whole, not good news.
My wife doesn’t limit herself to just one method. No, she’s a multi-media master. One day I texted her I was leaving the office after a long day.
“I wouldn’t come home if I were you,” she texted in response.
I stood at the elevator calculating the statistical probabilities of what I’d done or left undone to elicit her warning. All summed up to a what-the-hell-did-I-do? Be patient. Don’t respond. The elevator door opened and closed.
“Your kids are being horrible. I’m sitting in the car in our garage with the doors locked waiting for you to get hone. I need a drink and Tex-Mex.”
Their it was again…your kids. Yet, a ray of sunshine shown in this story.. I wasn’t the one who was in trouble.
“Hola, my name is Raul. Come to me. Raul buy you a margarita and make all problems in da whirl go hway,” I joked before hitting the elevator’s call button again and reoriented myself to drive to the local Mexican food restaurant she loves.
Snake vs. Butt: A Landmark Decision
“Do you know what your son did today at school?” My wife didn’t sound irritated.
“The possibilities boggle the mind,” I responded.
“He took a snake to school with him.”
“He WHAAAT?” I said as my head dropped into hand. I propped the phone next to my face and rubbed my temples.
“You rememver the toy wodden snakes we bought the kids? Well, evidently, he thought it was a good idea to shove his snake into his backpack and take it to school. His first period English Language Arts teacher, Mrs. Butt, saw him playing with it on his desk and asked him to put it away. She reminded him he wasn’t to bring toys into class.”
“What did he say?” I responded, bracing for impact.
“He told her he couldn’t put it away. He said, ‘The snake is part of my religion.’ So, Mrs. Butt callecd the principal. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t think it was really a part of our religion but wanted the principal to call me to be sure,” she said.
Losing My Religion
“‘Mrs. Sojourner, I saw your son this morning when he came into school,’ the principal said when he called me. ‘I noticed the head of a wooden snake hanging out the top of his backpack. After Mrs. Butt called me about the incident in class, I asked him to bring all his things and come to my office. I asked him about the snake and questioned his decision to bring it to school. He told me it was a part of his religion, too. He is now sitting here with me, and so, I thought I’d call you and confirm.’ I laughed and laughed.”
“Did you tell him the truth?” I asked.
“Well, yes. I told him that we were Anglican and not snake-handling Pentecostals!” 😀