Second-grader Sean told me this morning, “If I knew you were going to be here today, I would have worn my ‘Dude’ T-shirt.”
Too bad for me, I said. I wish I could have seen that.
“I have two of them: one long sleeve and one short sleeve.”
The short-sleeved one is to show off the guns, right?
“Oh, yeah!” he said, flexing.
“Mr. K., I’m drawing a picture of you,” announced his classmate Anthony. “You can have it when I’m done.”
How flattering, I thought. And then I saw the drawing. Do I really bear such a strong resemblance to SpongeBob SquarePants, I wondered.
“I’m giving you a six-pack,” said Anthony, joyfully pointing to his illustration’s abdomen. O.K., that is about as close to six-pack abs as I’m ever going to have. And as Anthony proceeded to add details to his composition that enhanced the value of the artwork, he unremorsefully reconsidered his pledge. “Take a picture of it, Mr. K,” he said. “I’m going to give it to my father next week.”
I regret that I did not have a camera to record for posterity the finished product, which was inscribed “To Dad: Happy farthers day. From: Anthony”
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