Driving Miss Crazy

The #1 son is trying to drive me crazy. Er. Crazier.

He has a teacher this year who is known for instructing students to call her by her first name. That's between her and her students. But it's something that would make me uncomfortable. I don't want students calling me by my first name. And it's not even an embarrassing or wacky name, like Hortense, or Ima, or Marvelanne. I just want to keep a line there in the sand. For propriety's sake. To show that I'm the boss, not an equal. But that's just me.

#1 knows that this issue irks me. IRKS. That's one of The Pony's vocabulary words this week. He pointed that out to me this morning, during our bonding time watching 17 Kids and Counting while we breakfasted and got ready to face the day. I know. The Duggars are a few kids shy of a show. That's what happens when TLC reruns their fare twice a morning. The next two baby girls will rear their heads by next month.

But getting back to #1 and his priming of the deep-end pump to launch me off the handle...This morning he came up the hall on his way to 1st hour. He usually ignores me, strutting by with his nose in the air, avoiding eye contact like a wizened UPS worker placating a mad dog. But today, he sauntered over to my side and said, "I let Buddi read my speech entry. And she liked it."

Of course I asked why he had not asked ME to read it. I'm his mom, you know. Please drop him an anonymous line and point that out, would you? And I certainly have been known to read a few lines now and then. But apparently, I was not good enough to supply an opinion on his speech.

Later in the day, #1 again dropped in. To inform me that he could have attended the away game he was planning to see, before I forbade him to ride with his beginning-driver friend over hill and dale on twisty two-lane blacktop in the dead of night for fifty miles one way, because Buddi had offered to let him ride with her.

NO! Double NO!

I just can't get used to these hippy-dippy lackadaisical laid-back blissed-out colleagues who won't realize that we are in different camps. Students. Teachers. Sworn enemies. Never the twain shall meet.

In my opinion.