Earlier this week, I went to one of my son’s field trips at a local museum. I managed to get out of work earlier so I could meet up with him at lunch. I found a parking meter space behind the museum next to the park, and although it was a little far away, I was happy to get a parking space that wasn’t across the street near the highway off-ramp. When it was time to leave, and as we were walking towards our van, I noticed another silver, Nissan Quest van backing out of a parking spot, where I thought I had parked, and then drive swiftly away.
“Gee! I think someone just drove off in our van!”
Nicholas and I both raced up the sidewalk in a panic, until when we finally got a view of the rest of the parking meters, and OUR silver Nissan Quest parked right where I actually had it parked. What a relief! We both happily got into the van and drove for home, both laughing and joking about how scared we were. It was an exciting moment for Nicholas, and I guess he just had to “share” this incident to his teachers and classmates the next day.
Well, apparently Nicholas added a few embellishments to the story to make it more exciting for his listening audience. This morning I was greeted by one of the teachers who exclaimed, “Was your van really stolen on the day of the field trip?!” Yes, according to Miss Sara, one of Nicholas’ teachers, he had told the entire class that our van was stolen by a “gangster” and we had to take the bus home, and then had to go buy a new car. I looked over at Nicholas who had just got into the classroom. He was sitting there on the carpet, listening to us with a huge grin on his face. I explained to the teacher what really happened.
“Now, that was just a big fib on Nicholas’ part,” I explained.
“Yes, that was quite a tall tale!” Miss Sara exclaimed.
Luckily for Nicholas his teacher wasn’t too upset, nor was I. I guess it’s pay back time for the big tall tale I had told my own 1st grade teacher.
I still remember listening to my classmates talk about their younger siblings. I could not contribute to their conversation, because I was the youngest in my family, with an older brother and sister, until one day, I decided to make my life a little more interesting. I announced to everyone that I indeed also had a baby brother. I told them how my mom had recently had a baby, and for a few days there, I found myself the center of attention. Each morning my poor teacher, Miss Maxwell would ask me how my “baby brother” was doing. And each morning I would reply shyly, “Fine..” Finally I felt like I had something in common with my other classmates, and we exchanged “cute little stories” about our cute little baby brothers and sisters.
How was I to know that my teacher and my mom would eventually run into each other at the local TG&Y? I remember it like it was yesterday; there was Miss Maxwell cornering my poor unsuspecting mother in an aisle in the store, congratulating her on her “new arrival.” I remember hiding in the soap aisle, and running to the front of the store just when I heard my mother exclaim jokingly with a sweet Portuguese accent, “Baby!? What baby? I didn’t have a baby!” I rushed into the car where my father was patiently waiting and sat there with him in silence. My mother wasn’t very pleased, because she felt embarrassed for my teacher, and I avoided all eye contact with Ms. Maxwell for days. I never spoke of my “baby brother” again. It was a good thing because I was running out of stories.
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