What Piece?

If you have kids, or know someone who has kids, or have ever spoken to a kid, you know the feeling I am about to explain.  That feeling like you are missing a big part of the information.  That somewhere along the lines the information got either mixed up and thrown in the blender, or filed in the garbage can, and you are suppose to put this puzzle back together with the little shreds of information you have .

My school is great about sending home notes regarding upcoming events and fundraisers.  Usually they are so good I get the same note 3 times (3 kids).  Now I am not complaining.  I would rather be inundated with information than have a lack of it.  Sometimes however, I go into auto-piolet and just start tossing notes if I think I have seen them before.

So last month Sass brings home a note telling me her artwork has made it to the regional level of the School Systems Art Show.  That there will be an opening ceremony and viewing for friends and family of artists 2 night from now at 6:30 pm.  Okay great!  Good for her!  Her school had an art show the previous month where each student’s best art piece was displayed, and we walked around the school and saw everybody’s pieces after school hours.  One of Sass’s pieces made it to the next level and was going to be displayed at another elementary.  Now at this point I ask her which art work is going to be in the show?

She looks at me bewilderedly and says “What art show?”

I show her the note and she says she doesn’t know.  She then asks me if I know!  This is some sort of Twilight Zone Episode.  Of course I don’t know I am asking her!  Is it the owl painting that you had in the school art show?   She says NO!  She doesn’t know what piece it is, but definitely no that one.  We will find out in two nights.  I mean what else can I say?

Two nights later we go to the other school, and hunt out our school’s art works an low and behold!  Guess which piece it is!  Guess!  I mean really, guess!

It’s the owl!  I sometimes fell like these small little people whom occupy the house with me live on another plane of existence.  A plane where mom is always wrong, and it is fun to confuse the stuffing out of her.  Because, really, what else is as much fun to do in your free time than try to drive mom further down the tracks into Looney Town?