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Friday, September 21, 2012

Heads Down, Thumbs Up

The last day of school for the term is always a lot of fun for the kids. Tracey worked at the video shop last night and said heaps of teachers were borrowing out movies for the kids to watch.

All day the kids have games, movies, sports, art, craft and no learning at all. It's what school would be if kids wrote the curriculum. But unfortunately for one of our munchkins, the day wasn't all shits and giggles. Or actually, it kind of was.

One of the games Master7's class played was Heads Down Thumbs Up. He explained the rules to me. Kneeling, they close their eyes then bend over so their noses touch the floor, all the while giving two thumbs up. Someone then gets up, touches someone and sneaks back to their spot. When the teacher gives the all clear the person who was touched has to guess who the toucher was. But the trouble started way before they got to that.

"We all bent over and pointed our bums in the air and I accidentally farted," Master7 told me.

"Oh, dear," I said, stifling a chuckle. "Did you get away with it? Or was it a stinker?" My boy produces a gas which can strip paint.

"It wasn't a stinker," he assured me. "I didn't follow through either."

"So it was loud? Did anyone hear?" I haven't yet taught the little kids how to cover up a arse blast by coughing, stomping or turning on the radio.

"Everyone heard," said Master7. "It was really, really loud."

"Oh, dear. Did your teacher hear?"

"Yeah. She got really angry," said Master7.

"Because you fluffed?"

"I didn't fluff, Dad, I farted," he corrected me, his emphasis on the word 'farted' left no doubt as to the enormity of his bum belch.

"So you got in trouble because it was loud, eh?"

"Not me. Another boy got in trouble."

"You farted in a room full of kids and someone else got the blame?" My chest swelled - I was filled with pride. I know you're not supposed to live through your kids, but I was taking this one.

"No. Everyone knew it was me," he grinned. "Everyone thought it was funny. That was the problem. You see, one boy couldn't stop laughing. He had to sit out the rest of the game cause he just kept looking at me and laughing, over and over. That's why the teacher was mad."

She might have been frowning but I'm guessing she was laughing on the inside. I am.





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About Me

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Bruce Devereaux is one of the nicest people he knows. When not at work he enjoys reading, writing, hiding from his children and not changing nappies.

 

His career, and if we used the term any more loosely an e might fall out, has included a gardener, a personal lender, a console operator, a stop/go man (not as big a bludge as you might think but great if you’re into sunburn, abuse and varicose veins), a cleaner of banks and pubs and, for a very brief period, a door to door salesman (until the last door he knocked on was answered by a very scary woman with tremendously hairy legs).

 

Bruce Devereaux currently works as a forty-five-year-old award winning customer service officer (glass statuette available upon request) for the Bank of Queensland and as a very casual employee for Corrective Services. He likes to believe he excels at both but then he has always been prone to exaggeration.

 

His favourite colour is green, with a picture of Dame Nellie Melba on one side and General Sir John Monash on the other. His favourite flower is self-raising.

 If you see him around town, call his wife immediately - he's probably snuck out and left her alone with all the kids.


 

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