On Monday morning, we were in the usual rush of getting Mr. Personality ready for school. Which really makes no sense, since he is enrolled in the afternoon class, but for some reason, we still haven't quite worked out the timing correctly and we always seem to be running late. We've never actually been late, it just feels like we're going to be.
I had picked out a new shirt that Mr. P's grandmother had given him on his birthday. It was actually one that I had chosen myself as we had been shopping together at the time. I pointed it out and said, "Oh, Mr. Personality will love that shirt!" And grandma, being the good grandma she is, obligingly bought it. He likes pirates, and it had a happy little cartoon skull and crossbones, replete with merry hat and eyepatch, and "Pirate Club" emblazoned across the top. Really, it is too cute, you would like it.
Hubba-hubba was the one to drop him off to school, and for some reason I can't quite remember, was also the one to pick him up. As Mr. P came barreling through the door, bursting with news of his day, I noticed that he had a large name tag on his shirt. Hmmm, I thought, they haven't worn name tags since the first couple days of school, how odd. Perhaps, I thought, they took turns wearing name tags so that everyone could learn everyone's name, since I knew Mr. P was a bit fuzzy on some of his classmate's names. I was pleased that the teacher had noticed the lack of naming skills, and was impressed with her perceptiveness.
But then I took a really good look at the name tag. And how could I not, as it was a very large name tag. Possibly the largest name tag I have ever seen, right smack in the middle of his chest. I wondered where you could buy name tags that size. Then, I noticed that you could not see any of his shirt design. At all. So, I asked him if his teacher had put the name tag on right away, or if she had waited. I was assured by my four year old that it was right away, almost as soon as he sat down on the carpet. Bingo.
It seems I have been un-Christian and offended the sensibilities of the school by sending my child to school with a pirate T-shirt. I swear I didn't even notice for a second the little "pillage" and "plunder" banners on either side of the pirate skull. Not that any of his classmates, even if they could read those words, would have the faintest clue as to what they meant, apparently the teacher could not stand even the sight of them. Nothing was said to Hubba-hubba when he picked Mr. P up, but with that huge sticker on his chest, were words really necessary?
The good news? It totally looked like Hubba-hubba's fault, and my lips are sealed.