So last week Jackson attempted to take his new Wusthof 8 inch chefs knife to school. Yes, he would have been expelled had anyone seen it. No, it did not occur to him that this was the case. The only thing that stopped him was his father saying ‘Jack, you can’t take your restaurant bag to school—there’s a weapon in it—you could be expelled,” and Jack saying, ‘Oh yeah.’ So they dropped the bag at my house where he could change into his blacks before going to work and pick up the knife in its case.

Katie has been fretting about her locker not closing properly since the weekend. She has been harassing me about finding pliers to take to school. I have asked her more than once why the maintenance staff at the school couldn’t handle this situation and she says that they wouldn’t fix the locker—they would just give her a new locker. I know this isn’t true. They don’t have that many empty lockers. But she brought it up again this morning when my brain is fuzziest (I blame it on my morning medication, but I think it’s actually old age).

Me. Katie, why didn’t you look for pliers last night?

Katie. Because I didn’t know where to look.

Me. I told you to look in the tool boxes. (We have three.)

Katie. I don’t remember that.

Me. You know you can’t bring things like this up in the morning—I don’t have time to do extra stuff much less get myself ready. Look in the tool boxes.

Katie (1 minute later). I can’t find any pliers.

Me. Do you know what pliers look like?

Katie. Yeah, they’re pointy things that squeeze together.

So I went outside to the shed and dodged large crickets and spiders and found pliers in amongst my reupholstering tools.

Me. Here.

Katie. Thanks.

Me. Now you know that this could be considered a weapon. You know what to do with it?

Katie. Yes. Hide it.

Me. NO! Take it to the office and tell them you are fixing your locker.

Katie. No, I’m not! Then they’ll give me a new locker!

I gave up. If they call from her school, I don’t have a daughter named Katie.


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