the time out chair
Friday, March 27th, 2009I heard the thud of the backpack making contact before I saw what happened. Muffled by the puffy ski jacket, the sound of backpack-to-flesh was nonetheless unmistakable.
Restless from endless (pointless) days of Connecticut Mastery Test-taking and no recess, my oldest was uncharacteristically violent with his brother that week. He swung his heavy backpack, stuffed to the brim with God knows what (he likes flat rocks), and landed a blow square against his brother’s shoulder.
For the first time in more than a year, I pointed to The Corner. Click to continue »
