My first Christmas with The Dad's family, my momma-in-law got me a big, old-fashioned, school-marm-type bell. Imagine Laura Ingalls Wilder's blind sister standing out on the steps on her prairie school for blind kids ringing a bell so loud that not only could the kids hear it, they could feel the vibrations through their 3-inch soled shoes. That's the kind of bell I got. I immediately loved it because I had a showcase home (in my own little mind) and had the perfect spot for it between my wooden apple collection and my antique school books - my interior design nod to my noble profession! Now, with The Daughters older and the wooden apple collection long gone through a yard sale and approximately nine moves later, the bell sits on the upper shelf of a very tall bookshelf between my copies of The Twilight Saga and a picture of Daughter 2 in a frame that says, "Pout like you mean it." And the reason it sits up so high is because it is loud!
Remember this story... it'll come back into play in a bit.
Yesterday, as we walked out of school with Daughter 2's first grade teacher - who happens to be my friend, FloJo - She told us that she had instituted a fun little activity so reinforce telling-time in her classroom. She had placed a slap bell on a stool underneath the classroom clock. Whenever a student noticed that it was a quarter to, half past or a quarter after the hour, they could slap the bell and announce the time to the class.
Unfortunately, the snow days last week were not kind to the classroom fish, Pistol - a sucker fish. And, according to Daughter 2, that "sucker was laying right on his back and not even breathing!" So, Tuesday afternoon, like any good teacher, they held a small, private memorial service before flushing Pistol on to the big aquarium in the sky ... or the sewer ... wherever. FloJo said that as they were talking about all of their wonderful memories of Pistol in the short two-weeks they had him when, {DING!} "Quarter After Eleven!"
"Wow!" I said, "That's great that the kids are catching on so quickly."
No. No, not KIDS. KID -- it seems that Daughter 2 became vigilant about dinging the bell and ALL. DAY. LONG. She was the only kid who dinged the bell.
I snickered as she said she was really wishing for a snow day so that she could get the dinging out of her head. And maybe hide the bell and hope the kids (or at least Daughter 2) would forget about it. I snickered at her day. Knowing that in the library, we do NOT have dinging bells.
That evening, as we drove home, I asked Daughter 2 to tell me one thing she learned in school. She said she learned that if you slap the bell and yell the time out enough, you'll get to pick a prize from the treasure box. I giggled - no, I laughed right out loud - imagining FloJo with her own little version of Pavlov's dog.
So, this morning as phone bonged with the text message that we would - thanks to about 54 inches of freshly-fallen snow - not be having school today. I fumbled to turn off my alarm and thought about texting FloJo and congratulating her on getting her wish, but I fell asleep before I could even find the texting buttons.
And I slept until 6:30. At this time, I thought I heard a gong... not really sure and really? What could be gonging? So, I went back to sleep.
About fifteen minutes later or so, I heard a gong. Maybe my phone was doing something weird. I checked my phone and decided I was dreaming, so I turned over and went right back to sleep. Just as I had dozed off, I heard a clang... not so much a gong this time, but a clang. I really had heard it. But it was just like one little bitty clang and then nothing. So, I dozed again. What kind of crazy dream was I having?
AND THERE IT WAS AGAIN! I punched The Dad to ask him what that noise was, he groped at me and said, "I love you, Sexy..." He's so worthless when it comes to a home invasion of the clanging-kind! So, I got up to investigate.
Actually, I got up to go to the bathroom and then investigate. I am nothing, if not a creature of habit!
I tip-toed toward the living room where I heard the TV quietly playing out a scene where Uncle Jessie's hair gets messed up and Stephanie gets blamed, but really, it's all Michelle's fault. And then I clearly heard the clanging again. This time it was louder. I zipped into the living room to find Daughter 2, naked, sitting in the recliner with the remote in one hand and the aforementioned school bell in the other. I was just in time hear her say, "It's a quarter past seven!"
I squinted at her and silently apologized to FloJo for my giggling at her plight with Daughter 2 and I let out a big sigh. So much for sleeping in.
"Good Morning, Momma!" Daughter 2 smiled at me. "I looked and looked and looked for a bell like Mrs. FloJo's but the best I could find was this!"
Who says education doesn't happen on snow days????!??!!!
