Warning: this blog may be hazardous to your health

With which I guarantee karmic gymnastics-related injuries to my children

This week we have a Thursday News of the Absurd Will These Administrators Please Get a Grip Rant-Inspiring Moment...

From Yahoo News:

Australian School May Backflip on Cartwheel Ban

"An Australian school which recently banned its students from doing cartwheels, somersaults and other gymnastics during recess is reviewing the decision after parents and students got all bent out of shape."

Apparently, the school had banned gymnastics at recess due to the threat of injury.

Huh. Perhaps it would be best also to ban walking (danger of tripping), reading (squinting may cause damage to eyesight, plus there is always the issue of paper cuts), water fountains (choke hazard), writing (there is simply not a safe enough writing implement), and reading this article (toxic exposure to overuse of puns). Students could be required to wear helmets and knee pads to school, where they would sit in padded chairs that are bolted to the ground (to prevent tipping), no less than arm's length away from other students (violence), and listen to volume-moderated lectures from stuffed replicas of instructors (actual teachers being far too dangerous).

Apparently, "the school had classified gymnastic activities a 'medium risk level 2' danger to children when performed in class."

I'd guess other "medium risk level 2" activities include trigonometry (causes hair-pulling in some students) and wearing your pants too short (provokes spitball attacks). At the top of the "High Risk Level 1" list? Going to a school run by terrified morons.

I am reminded of the wisdom of one of the world's great literary characters, Dory from Finding Nemo. When Nemo's dad justifies his over-protection of his son by asserting that he promised his son he would never let anything happen to him, Dory responds, "Huh. That's a funny thing to promise....You can't never let anything happen to him. Then nothing would ever happen to him. Not much fun..."

What other activities do you think they should be ban?

Happy Fourth of July

In which I panic.

I was born for summer. I grew up in Florida swimming in the Gulf of Mexico year round. I was a happy camper counting the days until school ended and I could go back to the lake. I was a teacher, still counting the days until summer break. Now I am a writer and I work in my little hole and never see any other humans* or the sun, but I still love summer.

I love summer so much that I am always a little sad on the Fourth of July, because, people! June is over already! And I haven't had a good picnic or re-learned to play tennis or eaten a bomb pop! We barrel towards fall and I don't even have good barefoot callouses yet! We haven't played in the sprinkler or made homemade ice cream! The strawberries are gone, people, and I NEVER CANNED ANY JAM. We are stuck eating store bought jam until the raspberries come in and -- Holy cow, look! I see a yellow leaf on the oak tree outside! Soon the leaves will fall and the wind will blow and I will be cold cold COLD and fighting the kids to get into winter clothes and spending time I could be writing looking for a freaking missing pink Dora mitten. And my bike will sit rotting in storage. And my skin will fade to transparent. And I'll spend early mornings scraping and shoveling and swearing and wondering for the 500th time why two people who NEED sunshine like plants need, well, sunshine ever decided to move to Michigan instead of to somewhere like San Diego where I wouldn't ruin all summer panicking about not having summer.

Wait! What am I doing blogging? What are you doing reading this? We are all, all of us, yes that means you, too, Captain Destructo, I don't care if you're not done napping and are already sunburned, we are all going outside RIGHT NOW to play. Summer is almost over, Tinkerbell; put DOWN that book. You can read when fall comes. Go play. PLAY already, I said. Mama is going to sit here and drink this iced coffee and be hot and love it. Aaaaaah.

Happy fifth of July.


* Except the Bearclaw coffee guy.