“It’s a freeway out there,” she said, pointing at the road where a slew of soccer moms whizzed past. “During the summer, it slows down. Then school starts, and it’s the Brickyard again.” Shaking her head, she added, “Everyone’s Earnhardt, driving for the trophy. At night, though, everything gets quiet, and the only thing bustling is Sadie, the beagle who lives two doors down. If you call rolling over in her bed ‘bustling,’ which some folks may not.”
Early reports from the elementary school indicate a bang-up start for a local scholar. “The first day of school was great!” the little fellow was overheard to say. He noted that they’d listened to three stories and sang several songs, one of which was the kindergarten classic, “My Baby is a Whiner.”
Other verses, in addition to the title, included, “My cat is a scratcher, my dog is a licker and my mom is a cooker.” These were all sung cheerfully for his mother as he worked out residual classroom jitters on the swing set later that day.
He also reported that a get-acquainted activity involved the use of a grumpy ladybug, which, he assured us, “wasn’t real, but it was real soft. When it was your turn to hold the ladybug, you had to say your name and your favorite color.” When pressed, he added, “I said dark green.”
The parents of the tiny Class of 2025 representative confirmed that he was “pooped, but happy, which we’re, well, happy about,” and that first-day pictures of him boarding the bus with an older brother would “put a tear in a glass eye.” Upon viewing the photos, this reporter (sniff) agrees.
In other news, the mother we spoke with reports that a recent trampoline session with Small Scholar involved “lying on our backs, looking for planes and praying for birds.” When asked to clarify, she said, “Well, we’ve been missing the Schrock Cardinal, official family bird, so we asked Jesus to send him back. Then Little asked for a blue jay and a canary, so I added those to the list.” They’re keeping their eyes peeled now for these feathery friends.
Recent package deliveries at the family’s residence have consisted of books. “Is this crazy or what,” the jumping mother stated. “I’m shopping for college textbooks and kindergarten nap mats—all in the same week. Top that!” To which an astute gentleman replied, “Just make sure the right kid gets the right stuff. It would be kinda embarrassing to show up for college with a nap mat.” There is that.
In celebrity news, there’s been another Travolta sighting. Yes, it happened at the Kindergarten Parent Meeting when out of the blue, another parent said to him, “You remind me of someone…Oh, of course. It’s John Travolta.” And here he and Jumping Wife thought they were sending Little Schrock to school. Turns out, it’s Little Travolta.
Upon questioning, residents of this small town expressed their relief at the lifting of the drought and the greening of neighborhood lawns.
“It’s a jungle out there,” said one woman who identified herself as Mrs. Travolta. “Just look!” she exclaimed, gesturing toward the back yard where long-delayed summer rains have created a virtual hayfield.
She is concerned, she solemnly acknowledged, about small children or the odd stray cat that may wander across the property. “I hope they’re wearing something bright because it’s getting hard to see ‘em.”
Her husband, she told us, “is terribly happy about it because it means he gets to mow like house afire, the way that stuff is growing.” Not getting to use his brand-new, bright orange mower, she explained, “really had him moping around. He was off his feed for weeks. I was about to take him in and have ‘em run straight Hershey’s syrup, IV, but he perked right up when the rains came back.”
She continued. “Now, he’s grinning so big, he’ll have to watch for bugs. But he’s a real strong flosser, so he’ll be fine.”
When this reporter noted aloud that her purse appeared to match the celebrity’s mower, she brightened. “Isn’t this the best handbag ever?” she enthused, thrusting it at me. “Here. Feel it.”
When I exclaimed over its soft, buttery feel, she beamed. “I’m really into scarves, too. I like to put the BOP (Bright Orange Purse) with a BOS (Bright Orange Scarf) or a BPS (Bright Pink Scarf). I wasn’t sure about that last one, but just the other day, I saw a snappy, young thing in bright pink crops with an orange, cross-body bag. It really validated me.”
And that’s the latest news from the occasionally bustling, small town of Wakarusa (Walk-uh-roos-uh). The buses are back, kindergarten’s a hit, Travolta is mowing and his missus is happily sprouting around with her beloved BOP, BOS, BPS and BWH. Black Wedge Heels.
Note: This “Grounds for Insanity” column ran in the 08/27/12 edition of The Goshen News. Yes, it did. Now, it’s time for the reporter to top off the coffee.