Red Rover had his first encounter with a bully the other day at school.
Red Rover--age 7: Mom, my teacher said she handled the situation and I would never be bullied again, because bullying isn't allowed at our school.
Chatter Box--age 5: Duh, Red Rover. Of course there isn't any bowling allowed. We don't even have a bowling ally at our school.
Once upon a time there lived a beautifully sensitive young boy. His amazingly beautiful and talented and smart and witty and humble mother (emphasis on the humble) loved his red hair. She let it grow and grow and grow for all to see.
One day, Red Rover's hair was so long it was starting to cover his ears. His father called to him, but he couldn't hear. He called to him once more and still no answer. A third time he called, but alas, the lad hopelessly walked the other direction, not knowing he was being summoned. His father could stand it no longer and took action.
With his right hand, he grabbed a pair of newly purchased clippers that his wife was too frightened to touch. He then took the boy's hair in his left hand and played the role of barber for his own son, not wanting him to endure one more day of school without being able to hear.
Red Rover lived happily ever after. His mother was most grateful—not only because she wouldn't have to take him to a hair appointment, but because of the $15 in savings that could go toward her next pedicure (shhh!). And T-Daddy was proud! Not so much of the cut, but because he figured out that when his son didn't respond to his calls, it was because he was not listening to him and not because he couldn't hear! Oh! Well! If he was going to ignore him, at least he could look cute doing it, right?
The End
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