Chasing Mice

It was dark in the WalMart parking lot, but I saw the little critter skitter beneath the car beside ours. "There's a mouse!" I said.
"Where?" my 10-year-old wanted to know. He craned his neck, but the shadows were too deep if you didn't know where to look.
"I'll show you," I said, starting the car and looping it in a big circle. Yep, the mouse scurried away from the sound of our engine and hid behind another car's tire.
"I see it!" Monkey hollered. Then the mouse made a dash for the next car and disappeared underneath.
We followed it around for a couple of minutes, watching it scurry here, there and back again. I wondered what it would be like to be that small and running around a parking lot. If car started up, would you have time to move? Where did it come from? Had it run clear out of the store or from some fields far away? Why would it choose a parking lot? Was there a lot of food here, or was it acting on a Mouse Dare?
Then Monkey reminded me, "Shouldn't we go home soon?"
Oh, yeah. I shifted into drive and pulled slowly away, because I didn't want that mouse running to hide under my tires, then I pulled out of the parking lot, leaving Mighty Mouse to take care of himself.

Why do I always dance?

I had the privilege of substituting at our local elementary school for a week and a half, where I got to do... TA DA! LUNCH ROOM DUTY! It was great fun.
After a few days, one of the students at the lunch table looked up at me with wide eyes and asked, "Why are you always dancing?"
Surprised, I asked, "Am I always dancing?"
"Yes!" several students replied.
I thought fast. There had been some occasions when I was wandering past tables, monitoring students' food intake (or lack thereof) when I'd spun on the balls of my feet, for no particular reason, but it WAS fun to see my skirts twirl out and around. Other times I wore tappy shoes and I couldn't help but tappity-tap them a few times now and then. That must have been the dancing they were referring to.
"Because," I said, "Dancing is good for you. It keeps you healthy and makes you happy. You should try it!"
I caught some incredulous looks, then did a twirl and moved on to the next table.
You know what I didn't tell them? If you do a few dance steps, you can eat your whole school lunch with fewer pounds gained.
And the sweet rolls are worth it.
Oh, yeah!

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Drinking Applesauce

I ask you, is there really anything wrong with drinking applesauce? I mean, if you grind it up a little finer, it's apple juice anyway. Would you expect someone to eat apple juice with a spoon because once upon a time it was a solid apple?
I never would have considered the etiquette of drinking applesauce if I hadn't been substituting at the elementary school and working lunch duty. The other lunch lady is the one who called it to my attention, watching a third grader tip her plastic applesauce cup to her mouth and take a swig. "If any child did that at my dinner table, I would have left the room and been sick to my stomach for two weeks," she said.
What?
Why?
The child, as far as I could see, was not sucking applesauce up her nose and snorting it out in fake snot trails. She wasn't smearing it in her hair or spooning it into her ears. It went directly from small cup to mouth, simply bypassing the optional use of a spoon.
I wonder if the lunch lady eats french fries with a fork? I'll bet she cuts them up with a knife and dribbles ketchup from a separate disposable packet onto each fry!
That's okay for her. Just keep the applesauce police away from my table!

A What-y and a Who, Now?

"Come on, Shirley, you've got to see this clip!" Bob said, as he slid the arrow back on a Youtube video. Then he played a snip of a football team kicking a ball and some player catching it in the end zone. Then that player threw the ball down in what I can only assume was a victory slam that bounced it out of the end zone. Then a guy in a different colored uniform grabbed the ball and ran into the same end zone the other guy just caught it in.
"Can you believe it?" Bob chuckled. "He got a touchdown with no time on the clock!"
"How could he do that?"
"The ball was still in play."
"But the other guy was there first," I said.
"But he was on the other team."
I cocked my head. "So he intercepted it?"
"No, his team punted it to him."
"So why was he in the other team's end zone?"
(Bob said something I forget now because it made no sense.)
"I don't get it."
"Never mind."
My point is proven - football is just a bunch of guys running around the field crashing into each other, then standing around making random rules in between hits to confuse people like me!