I’m listening to my student talk to the mother of a child who fell and hit her head. Ain’t nothing wrong with the child, but everyone already knows that. We’re going to the crappiest hospital in the county to “get her checked out.”
So student is sitting there just chatting away with this lady. Which is quite alright with me, because it gives me the ability to focus on
Angry Birds catching up on paperwork.
This guy isn’t burned out yet. I can tell, because he is asking about stuff that I don’t care about.
“So she is your youngest child?”
“Yeah. We have two others. Two boys.”
“What are their names?”
“Well, the oldest boy is named ‘Rex’, because his daddy is Mexican, and ‘Rex’ is Spanish for ‘King.’* The next one is named ‘Prince’ because if you have a king, you have to have a prince, right?”
“Right. Well, I figured you might have named her ‘Princess’ since you already have a King and a Prince.”
“Oh, we didn’t think of that.”
“How did you come up with her name?”
“Oh, I named her ‘London’ because we were watching that fancy wedding on TV when we made her.”
This might be the classiest lady I run across ever in my life time.
*It’s not.’Rex’ is Latin, and this lady is an idiot.