Catapulted Miles From The Tree

Catapulted Miles From The Tree - When I was in elementary school, I was a tall, skinny, uncoordinated, greasy-haired dork who was cursed with the reputation as the "School Brain". Some things never change.

Wednesday, I volunteered to help chaparone my son's fifth-grade class on a field trip to Exchange City (a Junior Achievement model city, where kids learn what adults do all day by doing adult-ish jobs).

They were short of volunteers, so I helped out the three fifth grade girls who were in the "Distribution Center" - a little warehouse, where they took and filled orders and made and collected invoices.

"You're Sam's dad?" two of the little girls asked, as if they'd run into Lance Bass' father, doing everything short of squealing like Davy Jones was in the room. "Where is he working?"

It should go without saying that Sam didn't inherit my looks; he's very tall (like me) and while he looked like Calvin when he was six (and acted like him, too), he's become a little blond fifth-grade dreamboat, and he's loving it.

He's on the phone with one of the girls from the Distribution Center right now.

This could be very, very dangerous...