Going into Labor Day

Major Havoc’s second grade social studies/history text has a long section on National Holidays. Yesterday, after reviewing Washington’s and Lincoln’s birthdays, Memorial Day, Flag Day, and Independence Day, we started to read about Labor Day.

“Labor Day…” the Major said, his brow furrowed. “What’s Labor Day?”

“Labor Day is an important day,” I explained. “On Labor Day, all the pregnant women in the world go into labor and deliver their babies. It’s the groan heard throughout the universe.”

“PUUUUUUUSH!” I added through puffed cheeks and bulging eyes.

Major Havoc sat perfectly still with a smile frozen on his face, while General Mayhem dropped his pencil and burst into laughter.

“Daaaaad!” he laughed. “You never stop, do you?”

The Major looked back-and-forth between the General and me. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Yes, I’m kidding,” I assured him.

Whoever said that history has to be dull?

“Eunuch” Rhymes With “Yuck!”

Today, I had the pleasure of defining the word “eunuch” for a 13-year-old boy who embarrasses rather easily over even the most clinical description of anatomical systems deemed “private.” He stumbled across the term in his history studies. I am certain that he has read the word in the past. I am equally certain that if he asked what a eunuch was my answer was a vague reference to guards. That all changed today when I decided that at age 13 he could handle the truth. I explained in detail what made a eunuch a eunuch, an explanation that left his jaw hanging open while he squirmed in his seat.

“I don’t know about anyone else,” I observed near the end of the explanation. “But, I’d rather keep those things attached, thank you very much.”

“Wouldn’t we all,” he quickly replied. “Wouldn’t we all”