How a Rhombus Ruined my Relaxation

Screen Shot 2013-05-31 at 6.02.33 AM“Mom!” I can see we’re going to have the nightly bed struggle. I just sat down, fantasizing about relaxation.

“I put you to bed, get back there.”

“But I made you a rhombus,” said Declan, extending a white rhombus of paper.

Oh, in that case, stay up all night. If I’d have known you made me a rhombus…A rhombus does not get you out of bed. A fifty, maybe, but not a rhombus.

“Excuse me, Ma’am, do you know why I pulled you over?” the officer says.

“No,” I say, “but I made you a rhombus. Can I go now?”

I don’t think that’s an effective life strategy.

“Mom!” he says. We are having parallel conversations. I want him in bed. “I MADE you a RHOMBUS!”

“Great. I like rhombuses. Or are they rhombi? Anyway, you’re out of bed!” I refuse to be cheated out of my one hour of peace before my bedtime by an inanimate geometric shape. Moms never get peace.  The world waits for me to sit before it needs something. And if I don’t respond right away, it stares me down until I do. It’s not like I can enjoy my dinner when someone “needs juice NOW!” “Do you know where the thing is?” “Do we have any more….” “Wipe my hiney!” “I NEEEEEED YOU!!!” No. I am not getting up. Not now. Not even for a rhombus.

“It’s a rhombus. See, it’s made of two triangles.” he pointed out. That’s pretty advanced. I’m fairly impressed, to the point where I’m almost distracted from the mission. Bed.

My husband chimes in. “Yeah, he brought that to me today, and I thought, like, WTF is a rhombus? In my day we called it a diamond. We had normal shapes–triangles, squares, what’s the heck is a rhombus?” I help him out with the geometry. He’s right, though. As a high school teacher, I think it’s odd that everyone knows what a rhombus is but no one can tell time on an analog clock or remember their multiplication tables.

“Excuse me,” Declan says addressing our side conversation. “It’s not a diamond! IT’S A RHOMBUS.” he said.

“Great. Get back to bed. It’s a nice rhombus–see, no ninety degree angles. A square is a rhombus, but a rhombus is not a square.” I reiterate.

“I know.”  You KNOW? You’re in kindergarten. Tell me how this isn’t a problem.

“Time for bed. Go.” No movement. Just a study in rhombus.

“Okay, you forced me.”  I pick up my iPhone. I pretend to hit an app.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MOMMY?”

“Putting notes in this app.” I say

“What app?” he asks. Something…is…not…good.

“The punishment app. It sets an alarm and makes up a punishment. It’s not a wise idea so close to your birthday…” He believes me. I hold it up and click an imaginary something. “See, it has a scanner. It knows you’re not behaving.” That’s actually a great idea for an app. I make a note to have someone make this for me. It’ll be a killer startup. I’ll use it every day.

“Ahhhhh!!!!” He runs away.

“Hey, wait!” I say. I pick up the little white piece of paper. “You’d better take your rhombus with you.”  He snatches it from me and runs off into the sunset.

I look down at my watch.

Ten o’clock. Bedtime. No relaxing for me.

I have been….defeated.

By a rhombus.

Thank you, kindergarten teacher. Thank you.

 

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10 thoughts on “How a Rhombus Ruined my Relaxation

    • Honesty is overrated. Really, what should I say, “It doesn’t matter if you listen because there’s not legally much I can do about it and I’m stuck w you till you’re 18…” Easier to make something up.

  1. Casey,

    Very funny. I’m with your husband. The Art teacher, of all people, corrected me for saying “diamond” to the students (shame the unpaid help – grin) because we needed to be consistent with the terms they were learning in the classroom. I suspect that at some point she’d received an earful for not being a team player with the shape nomenclature and was just passing it on down the line.

    I also get the cynicism about being purists on what we call shapes but not knowing even simple math in high school now. I am shaking my head.

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