Last Tuesday, February 2nd. 4:51p.m.

Jack takes off his shoes, the sandstorm ensues.

I hear clink clink clink.

“Jack, what is that?”

“Rocks. I brought them home for my fish.”

“Jack, please don’t bring rocks home for your fish. He has rocks. We bought them with his tank.”

“Ok.”

Last Thursday, February 4th. 4:49p.m.

Jack takes off his shoes, the sandstorm ensues.

I hear clank clank clank.

“Jack, what is that?”

“Rocks. I brought them home for my fish.”

“Jack, I asked you to stop bringing rocks home. They’re all over the house.”

“Ok.”

Last Saturday, February 6th. 11a.m.

clink clank clink clank clink clank

“Boys, what was that?”

Michael: “Mom, Jack just threw a handful of rocks into my room!”

“Jack!!! What are you doing?”

“Sorry.”

“Where did you get those rocks?”

“My backpack.”

“Bring them to me. NOW. And no. more. rocks.”

“Ok.”

Last Sunday, February 7th. 2:34p.m.

Enough said.

Today. February 9th, 3:43p.m.

“Come on Jack. Time to go home.”

{Mom picks up coat and backpack}

“WHY are there ROCKS in your POCKETS?”

Jack’s teacher: “He said that it was ok to bring them home. We kept asking him and saying that you probably wouldn’t like it. He seems like such a good kid, we believed him.”

{This is where I explain the past week’s events to the teacher. She laughs, I laugh}

“Jack, NO. MORE. ROCKS.”

“Ok.”

{Picks up lunchbox}

“Jack, why didn’t you eat your… WHY ARE THERE ROCKS IN YOUR LUNCHBOX???”

{Teacher and Mom run out of the room laughing}

We had a long, long talk on the drive home.

I’m fairly confident that there won’t be any more rocks in the house. Or backpack. Or lunchbox.

But you know, this is Jack that we’re talking about.