Sometimes I’m a little evil. Un poco mal. I bet you didn’t know I could speak Spanish, did you? Well, I can’t, but I can Google Translate fluently in over 60 languages.
So how am I un poco mal? I thought you would never ask.
Yesterday was Cole’s first day of school, and it would have been a very good first day except for one experience that marred it a bit. Cole shared his angst over the beef Stroganoff I fixed for dinner (a little beef Stroganoff applause would be nice…just sayin’).
“Mom, you know we have mailboxes at school, right?” Cole asked.
“I guess so. I think I left my car keys in yours last year when I drove the car to school, parked it for you and took the bus home, so…” (At this point I was interrupted—you can read the rest of the story by clicking here and scroll down)
“Yeah, that mailbox. We all have mailboxes, and I check mine a couple of times a day and clear out the junk and file the important stuff in my folders.”
I’m thinking, REALLY. On one hand, this could mean he appreciates being organized—something I have worked hard to help him achieve—but on the other hand, he could be displaying an anxiety disorder and/or an OCD tendency that might only grow worse. For example, just the other day he would not leave a department store until the asymmetrical nail polish display was even. I would have intervened, but I was searching for another nail polish to help even things up. Let’s worry about this later. So instead I told him, “Sounds like you have a well-thought-out plan for keeping your mailbox organized.”
“I do. But the girl next to me never clears her stuff out of her mailbox. NEVER. Stuff from last year is still sticking out of it. It’s so annoying.”
I’m in trouble. His future wife is going to blame me…I just know it. Note to Future Wife: It’s not my fault. But to Cole: “Why is it annoying? The stuff is in her box, right?”
“It’s annoying because when I come up the stairs and look at the mailboxes it looks like I have stuff in my mailbox, and when I walk over to check my mailbox is usually empty.”
Fast-forward 10 years. Cole is telling his therapist, “I was sharing my innermost angst with my mother and she spewed Coke and beef Stroganoff bits all over me as she erupted in laughter.”
Which is exactly what happened. “Is it the walk to the mailbox”—15 steps, tops—“that annoys you, the fact that your mailbox is empty, or that your neighbor’s mailbox looks more important than it really is?”
“I just think the considerate thing for her to do is to clean out her mailbox,” Cole explained. “The mailbox above me is tidy, and the mailbox below me isn’t bad. Last year the mailbox on the other side of me was empty, which was nice.”
I’m nothing if not helpful. “Well, maybe you could ask the high school’s office manager to leave the ‘to school’ requests in your mailbox.” (I didn’t want to say “junk mail,” as it seemed insensitive—especially after the Stroganoff spewing.) Assignments done by case study writing services may be also mailed.
The conversation went on to discuss several different options, but the wheels in my mind began to turn un poco mal. What if Cole’s mailbox was NEVER empty this year? What if he had constant letters, postcards and maybe a manila envelope or two? I could send stuff to him in care of the school. Kind of like camp! It would confuse the school, which is an added bonus, and create a new problem for Cole: his mailbox would be tidy and seldom empty, but eventually he would have to explain the steady flow of mail. I feel it’s my duty as a mom to offer my kid new challenges.
I live for these opportunities. Want to join me by sending Cole a letter or postcard to school (no he doesn’t read Odd unless I insist) Leave a comment saying yes, I will provide information and Operation MFC (mail for Cole) will commence.
Rendez-vous alligators plus tard! (I bet you didn’t know I could speak French!)
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