The Book Of Daniel (Silverman)

A few years ago I got a voice mail from one very agitated Mrs. Crow. She was sorry to have to call, Mrs. Silverman, but I needed to know that Daniel had been sent to the principal's office because he'd called her "retarded" during language arts class, and such behavior was not to be borne, no, not at all. Since I know no one named Daniel Silverman I used my brain-part and figured out that his school had gotten his mother's phone number wrong. In a rare moment of good judgment, I did not call them back to correct them and the ensuing years have been quite entertaining. Daniel is not a good boy.

Some months after the Crow Incident, I got another call about my son; seems he got in all up in a swivet in the cafeteria, stuck his hands in the pickle container at the salad bar and started throwing them everywhere while yelling "DOO DOO!". That was a fun message to listen to - the guy who called was clearly trying his best not to laugh. The next one was more troubling as it was to report that Daniel had tried to force-feed crayons to the class hamster. I watch plenty of tv so you don't have to tell ME that animal abuse puts you on the glide path to digging into your neighbor lady's skull like it was a soft-boiled egg. Concerning! His father and I discussed counseling, but in the end we decided to wait in case this was an isolated incident.

you get the cold shoulder, Mr. Gacy

 

Silence for a while. Then, oh! Daniel had the highest grade in his math circle on today's test! We took him out for ice cream to celebrate and breathed a sigh of relief. Sadly, our happiness was short lived - just days later he tried to flush Connor's shoes down the toilet. They wouldn't have called except one of the shoes might be ruined and Connor's dad was FURIOUS. I don't mind admitting we were too; if I've told that child once I've told him a thousand times that you do not mess around with plumbing. Plus I was a little chapped that Connor's dad was being a bit of a prick about the whole thing. That guy is such a blowhard.

I guess his dad and I put a good scare into him, because I didn't get any upsetting calls from school for quite a while. He left his jacket in the nurse's office one time, but who hasn't done that, especially a boy who may or may not be somewhere between the ages of 7-13? He'd lose his head if it wasn't attached to his neck!

Sadly, though, things took a turn this fall. We've been pretty upset. The first call of the school year came the day the Sally Foster fundraising items were delivered; it seems that Daniel took a roll of the wrapping paper, held it up to his crotch and announced he had a giant wiener. Thus a theme was established; the following month he had to go to the principal's office again because he asked another child if she wanted to see his testicles (she didn't), and shortly after that he told Sam "I hate your penis face". March brought word that he called Mr. Larry a stupid scrotum, as if all scrotums are not stupid. Oh Daniel. We are really getting to the end of our collective rope.

What's a parent to do? I know what this parent is going to do - not alert the school, ever. That Daniel is shaping up to be a serious asshole, and if I ever meet him or his (probably very confused) real parents I'm going to be ready. I think I'll give him a quick punch right in his giant wiener.