My son is now in the second grade. Oh, how the years have passed? It was just yesterday he was in the first grade. Wait. never mind.
I never realized how much we were alike, until I was called in for a parent teacher conference. But I should have seen this coming. You see, I’m not with his mother anymore, so during my son’s (Ryan) early years, he would be shuffled between us very frequently. To give you an example, I’m a Cubs fan. I would purchase Cubs memorabilia for my son to wear. His mother is an NBA fan.
When I drop my son off, he’ll leave my house with a Sammy Sosa jersey and a Cubs hat. When he returns, since his mother is an NBA fan, he’ll come back with prostitutes and a police record. So I believe I’m making an impression on him. Because who wants to have a police record? I mean, ever since Sting left, I threw all my police records away. I felt betrayed. Now every time I hear Sting’s voice it makes me sick. “A goo goo goo, a ga ga ga.” What the hell is that? Speeding up to the future, but not too fast because I’d hate to get a ticket, I was recently called in for a parent teacher conference. Don’t get me wrong, Ryan is a good kid. But like kids, he has his share of school incidences.
When I reach the school, I ask for his teacher. Of course, his teacher is not there; rather I have to speak with my son’s teacher’s assistant, which happens to be a beautiful, young college student. Just my luck; I anticipate to see an elderly woman, but instead, I get a beautiful, young woman.
I turn on my charm, by telling jokes from my massive arsenal of sarcastic euphemisms. Then I remember, I’m here for my son. So I start telling my son jokes from my massive arsenal of sarcastic euphemisms. Not really.
She then realizes where my son gets his personality.
The young coed named Jessica, begins to tell me that my son is a joy to have in class, he’s intelligent for his age, and his father is a magnificent looking bastard. But one slight problem he has is, his attention span is short. Daydreaming, as Jessica subtly put it, who incidentally wishes to get together later to discuss this issue in more detail, say at my place at around 10:00 PM.
But at the school, Jessica enlightens me. She says, “Ryan is a great student. He follows directions properly. He plays well with others. And more importantly, his father is a magnificent looking bastard. But the problem is, sometimes he finishes his assignment ahead of the other students. So while he’s waiting for the other kids to catch up, he has to keep himself busy. He then starts to daydream, and when everybody is caught up, he’s still in la la land.”
The whole time she’s telling me this, all I’m thinking is, ‘Man, she’s got big boobs.’
“Do you know where he gets this from?” she asks. “I have no idea.”
Like father like son.