I was looking under my couch trying to find my glasses, when I remembered a time, maybe 25 years ago, when my daughter's gerbil Lassie escaped. We'd looked everywhere for this rodent to no avail and Jean had left for first grade in tears.
"If you find her, you'll call the school, right?" I promised I would. Jean sniffed, "Because she's little and can't fight back."
I stepped over the lettuce I'd put on the floor as gerbil bait and looked at my husband who was lying miserably on the couch. The day before he'd had his tonsils removed and you know how these things go. It occurred to me that Lassie might be holding out for the good stuff. I added endive to the lettuce on the floor and heard scuffling under the couch my poor husband was on. I knelt by the couch, looked underneath, peered into little gerbil eyes and actually said, "I've got endive." Lassie considered this, then scurried out. I tried to grab her and missed, but Evan, thinking quickly, scooped her up. Lassie, thinking quickly, bit Evan's thumb through to the bone, causing Evan to shriek in pain, his tonsillectomy so wretchedly raw. Into the cage Lassie went with the endive as Evan flopped on the couch holding his throat. I called the school and in one of the great moments of education the principal got on the loudspeaker and announced to every classroom K to 5: "Jean Bauer, your father has found your gerbil."
You can't ask for more than that from your elementary school, or from a father for that matter. Happy Father's Day, Evan! You always get the job done.