When my son Braeden was in second grade, his teacher assigned him to take a nature walk and gather pictures of the wildlife he saw. But, of course, living in Florida, unless you’re a native or Swamp Person (from the tv show), you try to stay out of the woods or near bodies of water. Otherwise, you could meet up with some bitey snakes or jackass alligators.
Figuring my thick, slow backside would be a perfect meal for an alligator, I took Braeden to open, well-lit areas to capture his pictures. Seeing that we are both cautious, we pretty much ended up with pictures of ducks. I suppose we could have gone to the back of our Publix to get a picture of feral cats, but even those can get pretty feisty in the Florida heat.
Once we got home, I printed up his pictures to glue into a scrapbook of his nature walk. I knew he wouldn’t impress many since several kids in his class hunted deer, wild boar, and various birds. But, at least his homework was done, which most mothers know is sometimes all you can achieve.
Several days later, Braeden came home with his scrapbook. He was lathered up and yelling at me. Freaking out was not a typical reaction from my son.
“What’s wrong, Braeden?”
“I got a “B” on my scrapbook!” he yelled.
I figured the hunting kids had found a Yeti or something for Braeden to receive a “B.”
“The teacher said those ducks weren’t Chernobyl ducks, and she marked me down!” Braeden explained.
Doh! I suddenly realized that Braeden had to identify the ducks that he had seen on his walk. Unfortunately, I had always referred to Muscovy ducks as Chernobyl ducks because of their malformed bills.
Braeden learned due diligence on that day. Since then, he has always double-checked my answers. I think it might have been one of the better lessons he learned.
But damn, if that story doesn’t still make me laugh to this day!
Sorry, not sorry. Should I be?