Tutored

We were swaying on the swings at the learning center this evening, Eleven-Year-Old Tony and I, enjoying a break from our reading lesson, when I inquired about his day at school.

Me: Did you have a good day at school?

Eleven-Year-Old Tony (bored): I guess so.

Me: You guess so? You mean to tell me that you didn't do a single fun thing all day long?

Eleven-Year-Old Tony: Well, we did play kickball in gym.

Me: I love kickball! When I was your age, I was a kickball legen…"

Eleven-Year-Old Tony (pretending not to hear): Miss Widener put all the good kids on the same team.

Me (agitated): That doesn't seem fair.

A pause. 

Me: What team were you on?

Eleven-Year-Old Tony: The good kid team.

Me: That a-boy! I bet you guys annihilated those dweebs! What was the score?

Eleven-Year-Old Tony: Nineteen to one.

Me (holding up my hand): Alright!

A pause.

Eleven-Year-Old Tony: Are you sure you're qualified to be my tutor?

Me: Why do you always ask me that?