Who Knows? A Mother Knows.

This afternoon I gave The Pony a chore to complete in my classroom. Don't think The Pony was working for free. He got a delicious frozen custard concrete out of it. I know, because he gave me the last half. Anyhoo...we're getting ahead of ourselves.

I had duty for the first time this year. Can't beat Monday for duties! So many holidays! I headed outside to observe the demolition derby parking lot as kids tentatively inched their way along the properly-marked directional aisles with exemplary restraint roared out of there like so many NASCAR-driving cats with their tails set ablaze.

When I returned, I saw that The Pony had not set out my textbooks in numerical order as instructed. In fact, I saw that The Pony was nowhere to be seen. He appeared shortly, stating that he had been making use of the facilities next door. And I don't mean the storeroom or the Spanish classroom. He puttered around at his laptop. Checked his phone ensconced on the window sill for prime reception.

"Pony. I thought you were going to get my books ready." I have been explaining this since last week. Genius used to do it for me, but that and other errands such as copying several days of worksheets garnered him $20. At his request. There is no love lost between The Pony and the Kyoceras. He would be the first to tell you that he is not a copier. Nor a moneygrubber. But still, he had agreed to help, as he has done for the past two years.

"All right." He was dragging, my little beast of burden. Not bright-eyed. Not bushy-tailed. He seemed sad.

"Is something wrong?"

"No. Nothing's wrong."

"I know it is. I can tell. Did somebody say something to you? Did something happen?"

"No. It's nothing. I don't know why you say that."

"I can tell. You're not your normal self."

"Nothing is wrong."

"You'd tell me, wouldn't you?"

"Yes. I don't want to be doing this. I'm hot. I'm tired."

Still, he continued working. He WAS up late last night watching a movie until 10:00, then he had to shower, then get up at 5:30. Not as much sleep as a teenager likes. We (and by that I mean HE) finished the books. We left for home.

On the way, I looked in the mirror and saw great sadness cross The Pony's face. He declared that it was because the air conditioning was blowing right on his eyelids. Perhaps. I reached back (he rides behind me, you know) and grabbed a hunk of hairy leg.

"Come on. What's wrong?"

"I don't want to go to this Boys State dinner tonight. And I really don't want to give a 5-minute speech."

AHA! The Pony is not one for public speaking. Even though he's taking the class this semester.

"Do you have your speech ready?"

"No. I know what I want to say. It's in my head."

I'm sure he'll be fine. Farmer H is there with him. I mean, really. Farmer H will open his mouth and take the heat off The Pony. For sure. I pointed that out to the balky Pony.

"I know. I just hope he doesn't say TOO much."

Ahh...the weight of the world weighs so heavily on the young. They don't know how good they have it.