A certain jet-lagged eleven year old texted me from school:

“Can you pick me up from school. Got highlighter in my mouth and now my stomach is really hurting.”

You will be shocked to hear that I ignored him. And then, hours later, another text finds it’s way to me:

“When are you coming?”

I organized a retrieval, albeit only 90 minutes before the end of the day. (Nobody wants to feel like a complete patsy. Least of all me.)

Kid was just fine. Once I got him home, within the vicinity of both the fridge and the TV, I never heard another word about the offending office supply. 

I did, however, find him doing some research later that day:



I still have no idea how said highlighter ended up being consumed.

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Filed under Boys, Jet lag, New York City, Seattle

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