I was right. Ali’s new hair clearly makes her look older.
So much older, in fact, that we had a first on Tuesday.
Being that I remember it well from my own upbringing, I am positive that it was merely a foreshadowing of what the rest of my kid’s homeschooled life is going to consist of, however long that may be.
I drove up to the bank teller…
“Hi! Welcome to Regions!”
The teller craned her neck to gawk my backseat.
“Oh MY! We have a full car today, don’t we?”
I look in the backseat at my two children. Apparently she’s never telled for the Duggar’s. Or Vitafam.
“Yes, I have kids.”
She gets a worried, grandmotherly look.
“I hope everyone’s all right!”
“Well, you know, are they sick?”
“Nope, we’re all well.”
“Oh. Well, why aren’t they in school today?”
I paused, wondering if I should address each child individually, or just assume that she surely meant only Ali.
“Well, Doogie Howser in the car seat just finished his med school midterms earlier today. And the five year old, well, she’s more of the Ferris Bueller type, if you know what I mean.”
I decided to go with the “easy” answer.
I smiled sweetly and said, “We homeschool.”
She looked shocked, then tried to cover it up with an overly syrupy smile.
“Oh! How… nice!”
…and then quickly repasted on her overcompensatory fake smile.
As I drove away, I saw her frantically reaching under the counter for the Emergency Truancy Officer Button, as she wrote down my car tag and looked up my address, phone number, and social security number from my bank account.
She probably put a freeze on all of my accounts also, if her expressions were any indication of her opinion on my schooling choices.
Because I’m clearly a Radicalist.
So I need some new responses, because I have a feeling that she was simply the first pebble of the upcoming landslide, especially given my history with the Awkwardly Intense Busybody Club.
“What, these? These aren’t children! They’re just pale Oompa Loompas. They do all of my baking and cleaning and disposing of nosy people by turning them into blueberries for me. I highly recommend purchasing a few!”
“Much like Miss Texas, my kids are self-described over achievers. They both graduated last year! Ali starts college and is majoring in Counseling in the fall – perhaps you should go visit her to talk about your issue with busybodiness?”
Of course, being Southern and all, I can’t pull off cruel. So perhaps something simpler, like…
“Oh, Ali’s been diagnosed with a rare case of an extremely infectious disease. You know, the new one that everyone is freaking out about? I think it bursts all of the capillaries in your skin and makes you vomit the contents of your intestines if you don’t get treated right away. Anyway, we’re on our way to the CDC now for a total quarantine of our entire family for about 45 days. Oh! Excuse me! I think I might have just spit a little on you while I was talking!”
Yup, that one might work.
Any better explanations out there?