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Last Night we were entertained for the second time this week by stories of young Ted’s school activities. Expecting the unexpected, we listened intently as to why he had been paying multiple visits to the headmaster’s office. One of the school’s particular forms of chastisement is that misbehaving students are requested to do their penance whilst eating lunch sat squarely outside the big man’s office. Intended to deter the miscreants from further naughtiness by taking away their free time at lunch and hopefully embarrassing them into wiser ways it seems to do the trick with most kids. Ted, on the other hand, is either fascinated by the seating arrangement and view or, as I suspect, seeking some attention.
His first episode this week involved messing around with a friend in class that ended up in the stereotypical boyish malarkey where bottoms and bits got pinched and the duty bound spectating do-gooder dobbed them in to the teacher. Ted off to the office.
We received this news a couple of nights ago and with stern faces expressed our displeasure, all the while choking back barely controllable fits of giggling.
Episode number two was both harmless and classically naughty at the same time and I cannot for the life of me tell him off. He enjoyed his lunch in peace and quiet outside Big W’s office again because he had been found guilty of locking all the boy’s toilet doors! I might add here my displeasure at his so-called best mate who, in my books at least, is a very short step away from becoming an ex-best mate for dobbing him in. Dobbing is the Aussie slang term for grassing on somebody, snitching, telling tales or, as in this case, running to the teacher frightened of their own shadow. If it were not for the grass the mystery would’ve at least continued until fruito!
Immediately on hearing the story I fell about laughing remembering how we used to go into one cubicle, lock the door and then hop up on the seat to flip over the dividing sides into the next cubicle, lock its door and so on all the way down the line hopping out over the last door as if you’d been nowhere near the place, just like Ted did. Ha ha, all very entertaining and silly I know but just so typical of good old fashioned computerless, internet-free horseplay. Moreover, although it most certainly cannot be encouraged I can’t help feeling a little proud of him. Maybe he does listen to me after all.
We’d better keep the roll of plastic food wrap hidden or that could end up stretched over the loos in the girl’s toilets…
