Inside the Third Grade Lunch Table

I’ve been lamenting (whining?) for the past year or so over the changes I’ve noticed in Pacey. He’s suddenly gone from this cute little preschool/kindergarten boy to an elementary school boy. I’m not so sure what I think of elementary school boys yet. And lately, he has been driving me insane every time we are in the car, flexing his sense of humor and trying to get his brother to be the butt of all of his jokes. Where on earth is all of this coming from, I’ve wondered? I have suspected that school is the answer, and yesterday, my suspicions were confirmed. The downfall of our cute preschool/kindergarten students is directly related to the lunch table. Oh yes, it’s a very serious situation, and I was lucky (or unlucky) enough to witness it firsthand.

I was given a very secret invitation by Pacey to be a part of his lunch time yesterday, and while I was there, here is a slightly abridged transcript of the brief 25 minutes…

1. Pacey tapped me and said, “You’ve got the cheese touch.” Luckily a nice little girl told me to pass it to her (such a martyr), and she passed the dreaded cheese touch down the table.

2. But then this nice little girl reached over and tapped Pacey and said, “You’ve got the girl touch. Now you’re a girl permanently because you didn’t pass it on in ten seconds.”

3. Pacey holds up Spock’s live long and prosper hand sign and says, “Uh-uh, I have the ultimate protection.”

4. Pacey then says, “Spell the word ‘ip,’ Mommy.”

5. I sighed and told him I wasn’t going to fall for that one. To which he replied, “Okay, spell Mississippi.”

6. Then his friend says, “You are smart. Spell it.” Pacey had obviously heard this one before because he quickly spelled the word ‘it’ (I would have failed because in my head I was already spelling out y-o-u…) and moved on to attempting to get people to stare at a spot for more than 5 seconds. Any spot. And if you stare at it for more than 5 seconds, you lose.

I lost.

I couldn’t hang with the third grade lunch table.