Cankles

I'm at parent-teacher conferences tonight, experiencing a slight lull. As our daughter grows up and we have to attend conferences, putting me on the other side of the table, I think I will be mindful of a few things. One, if she's getting an A, I won't show up and nod my head until the teacher gives her (actually me) the praise she deserves (actually the praise I deserve).

Two, I will try my hardest to suppress rage if I suspect the teacher does not know her name. I have 140 students and know all of their names and usually something substantive about them beyond their performance in my class. But I know there are teachers here tonight who are nervous because they don't know all their kids after six weeks. God help any teacher who doesn't know my daughter's name after six weeks.

And other than that...well, I think I'll bring a cold beverage to each teacher. You can't see it from reading this post, but I've been interrupted about 37 times since I started it. Talk talk talk talk talk. I'm parched!

Of course, this whole post ignores what's actually going on right now, which is that I think Julie is developing cankles. A cankle, for those of you less worldly than me, is an ankle so swollen that it blends into the calf. I'd wager they're common with third-trimester pregnant ladies. What can you do but laugh? Well rub her feet, I guess, which I did last night. It's just one adventure after another, and today's is cankles.