And I Quote:

"Listin to the weenee butt rabits mummy butt stinky time."

I found this written in red crayon on a white piece of paper, which had been folded once each way, in a quiet place at the bottom of Sumner’s backpack. I thought it was intentionally hidden there. There is a capital letter at the beginning of the sentence and a period at the end, which is one of the skills he is learning in first grade. It lay there so unassuming under his lunchbox. When I read it, I was aghast. Is he angry? At whom? Who did this to him? Where did he do this? Is there a crayon loose in the house? Does he hate school? Does he hate me? Should we start home schooling today? Maybe literacy isn’t such a good thing.

Sumner was in the living room playing peacefully and so I tiptoed into the kitchen to show my finding to Philip. I was like a mother of a teenager who just found a bag of weed. Whispering so that Sumner couldn’t hear me at the other end of the house, I said, “Look at this.” The whole this was so upsetting. To be reminded that our son was so profane in print was disturbing. I am thinking: how can we get this to stop?

Philip read it and laughed. Loudly. I am sure that Sumner heard him. “This is great,” he said, amused. “This is really funny,” he continued, as he posted it on the fridge.

Hoping he’d follow my lead, I continued whispering telling him all of my worries.

He blew me off, “It’s a joke, Emily. Relax. We’ve got to show this off.”

Of course, he was right. I later interrogated Sumner. He wrote this during indoor recess this week as a joke to get his best friend laughing. It’s that simple. Why can’t I take a joke?