Dear Tats, I’m so sorry

Yesterday I took the day off work so I could wait for the plumbers. We had a major clog in our master bath shower that needed immediate attention. I was hoping they’d pull out something exciting, but it was only a giant hair clog masquerading as a dead rat. From the way the plumbers went on and on about it, you’d think it was the other way around.

Since I was home, I was able to meet Colman getting off the bus. He came into the house, smacking loudly and immediately went and threw something in the trash can.

“What was that?”

“A candy wrapper.”

“Where did you get candy?”

“Our bus driver gives us candy every Friday, but I guess he’s not going to be driving the bus tomorrow or something because he gave it to us today,” Colman said.

“Colman,” I said, “that’s so nice of him. I thought you said he was really mean?”

Colman rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say he was really mean. I said Tats was really stupid.”

Well, that clears it up. My child!

“Tats?”

“That’s what we all call the bus driver. He’s covered in them.”

“You call him ‘Tats’ to his face?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah, he doesn’t care.”

And all I can think is, That poor man! I’ve got to get him some sort of gift at the end of the school year. He spends day after day driving ungrateful little brats home every day, giving them candy every Friday and the thanks he gets is they nickname him “Tats.” Plus that bus is LOUD. I’m sure poor, old Tats has a splitting headache at the end of his route. His hearing has to be in jeopardy. Maybe I can get him some of those fancy ear plugs that rock stars wear on stage? Or a nice bottle of whiskey to take the edge off at the end of a long day?

Maybe I’ll do both. Then he can pretend he’s Adam Levine. 🙂

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4 thoughts on “Dear Tats, I’m so sorry

  1. Pingback: …I wouldn’t have it any other way. | Crazy Heart Mama

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