Holla at a Homie

Sometimes, I think my kids get a little too comfortable with me.

(I have one that constantly passes gas. It's so gross and makes all the other kids upset b/c then he blames his neighbors!)

I have this one kid (the "Holla atcha later!" kid) that I was really hoping would test out -- just for his sake. Unfortunately, he didn't...meaning I get him for another year. I don't mind b/c he is great comedy relief. (He also perplexes me; it's like he has dysnomia or something...but I'm not sure if I really believe in kids having dysnomia/anomia). Anywho, the kid swears we're like homies and stuff.

Today, he was talking about how he gets on MySpace. I played dumb and asked, "What's that?" For a hot moment, I started panicking, wondering if he's found my page (which is set to private) b/c he was talking as if he found my page. I asked him if he knew what my first name was, and he quickly looked around. Phew, he didn't know (nor was I wearing my badge). Dude, the day my kids ask me to add them is the day I need to start tying my jean hems with my shoelaces (what is up with that ridiculous fad? And WTH is it called so I can talk more trash about it?).

At the end of the session, the kid asked me for a ride home, since it was pouring. WHAT?! "No, I cannot give you a ride home!" "C'mon!" "No!" "WHY?" "Do you want to stay until 5?" "Oh, never mind." Crazy kid!