“If you poop on the potty, I’ll make you a martini.”
— Big Steve, helping to potty train The Boog

“If you poop on the potty, I’ll make you a martini.”
— Big Steve, helping to potty train The Boog

Working on a summer newsletter writing project with a middle schooler….
Me: “So what do you think you want to write about for your editorial piece? What’s an issue you are passionate about?”
Student: “I was going to write about about making the food in the school cafeteria better, because it’s pretty gross.”
Me: “Oh, great idea!”
Student: “But then I changed my mind, but I don’t know if you’ll let me write about it.”
Me: “Ok…”
Student: “I really want to write about what happened in Virginia, and how sad it makes me feel, and how I think we should all spread love and not hate. And how I think racism is wrong. And I know this might be weird but can I add an obituary section? I want people to remember the girl who died, Heather. I think she was a good person and people should remember her.”
Me:

Started with a new client today.
Me: “So, kiddo, anything you think I should know before we begin?”
Kid: “My mom has a boyfriend who she kisses on the mouth.”

Needless to say she’s my new favorite.
“No, but I did poop right before you got here.”
— Kid, when I asked if he did his homework.

Kid goes to the bathroom during our session. He leaves the door open, so I can hear him peeing, and I can also hear him NOT wash his hands.
Kid (running out of the bathroom): “Ok done! Ready!”
Me: “No, no, no sir. Turn right back around and wash those hands.”
Kid: “But I did!”
Me: “I did not hear the sink running.”
Kid: “That’s because I used spit!”

A potential client called to inquire about writing lessons for her son
Potential Client: “I just want my kid to know how to write. In complete sentences. With punctuation and real words. Everything today is text-speak and emojis, I feel like he isn’t getting reinforcement for actual WRITING, and that’s still a skill that is extremely important, you know what I mean?”
Me: 
I got the job.
Someone destroyed my parents’ mailbox in Potomac. Mom sent this email:

Followed by this email:

I can’t even by offended by this. When I saw the photo, sitting on my couch in NYC, even I wondered if I did it.
Just seems like something I’d do.
I actually love a good crying, meltdown tantrum during a tutoring session because it provides me with really valuable practice for the kind of mother I plan to be.
A really mean, unfair, impatient one.

Me: “Isn’t it fun to learn new things?”
Kid: “No.”
Me: “Ok. But doesn’t it at least feel good to learn new things?”
Kid: “No.”
Me: “Ok, but it doesn’t NOT feel good, right?”
Kid (thinking): “No.”
Me: “Ah HAH!”
Kid: “I mean….Yes? Wait, what?”
Me: “Exactly.”
