Due to the fact that I represent at Jack's school sufficiently, I did not feel one bit guilty about making Dave chaperone the fourth grade cross-country ski trip yesterday. Apparently when asked if anyone had parents that would like to volunteer, Jack raised his hand and said, "My mom will do it......she doesn't have a job!" Thanks, pal. That's me......jobless Mollie Christie, sitting here, bored and just hoping that some philanthropic activity will come my way and give me a reason to live. Uh, I don't think so. Anyway, Dave went. They actually had a pretty good time. He did, however, experience the one major problem I have consistently encountered while out on class field trips. There's always one little weasel in the bunch. And I do not discipline other people's children. Not my job. But when you're in charge of them, this puts you in a rather precarious position. One of Dave's charges was not digging on the skiing thing and would fall and not get up and apparently was complaining a good bit. If it was your own kid you'd tell him to get off of his ass and quit complaining or "I'll give you something to complain about" like sitting in the car while the rest of us have fun. Can't do that with other people's kids. "Mrs. Christie was mean to me". So, not only is Mrs. Christie a horrible woman who drinks and swears (but not around children.....I limit the drinking and swearing to my own child and the children of close friends who are aware of Mrs. Christie's patterns of behaviors and think exposure to "colorful" people is a character enhancing experience for young minds) and who writes horrible things about "mom jeans" and the PTA but is a CHILD HATER to boot. NOT TRUE. I love kids. Babies, not so much. But kids rock. I just don't want to have to correct someone who has not sprung forth from my body. To me, that's the parents job. And if your kid is a little shit, it's not my mission in life to figure out how you'd like to approach it. I know there are lots of people out there that have no problem handing a verbal bitch slap to an out of line little shit. Maybe I'm a big chicken. El pollo grande. Or maybe that's just outside of my comfort zone. This is why I love teachers. They have authority over such matters and can be counted on to deal with it when Johnny says, "Mrs. Christie, did you know that fuck is a word?" "Why yes, Johnny, Mrs. Christie is well aware of this fact". TEACHER!!!!! JOHNNY SAID FUCK!!!!!! Problem solved. AND, scene.