I AM Mrs. Robinson

The mid-life crisis has been temporarily averted. The kid (I mean guy) at my daughter’s school who runs the after-school sports program asked me out on Friday. Yeah. No shit.

“Mr. Jeff” is a grad student from a nearby college so he has to be around 24—young enough to be my son (I mean nephew).

So I am standing in the hallway while Schmoopie crams books into her locker and gathers her PE gear and Mr. Jeff says:

“So, what are you doing for St. Paddy’s Day?”

Me: “Probably heating up a can of Spagettios and hassling Schmoopie for wanting to watch “Deal or No Deal” I mean—what up with that? It’s the stupidest show I’ve ever seen...”

Mr. Jeff: “I’m thinking about hitting ____ (Irish pub here in town). You wanna come?”

Me: “What?”

Mr. Jeff: “I mean---does Schmoopie need a sitter? She really doesn’t, does she?”

Me: “Are you serious?” (Laughing nervously and glancing over his shoulder down the hall. Schmoopie is heading our way and her eyes have narrowed as she strains to hear the conversation).

Mr. Jeff: “Yeah. Can you?”

Me: “Um, Mr. Jeff, Schmoopie’s Dad might have a problem with that.” (More nervous half-assed laugh).

Mr. Jeff: “Oh, man. I thought you were single...you don’t wear a ring…”

Me: “Yeah, I don’t wear my jewelry all the time—I work at home and write all day and my hands always feel dry and so I sort of use hand lotion constantly so I’m always taking my rings off…” (aware that I am babbling incoherently but unable to stop myself)

Mr. Jeff: “Hey--I’m really sorry... I just thought...“

Me: “Oh, sweetie, no problem. You made my day.”

Schmoopie has arrived and she stands looking suspiciously at both of us. Then she says: "What?"

Me: "Okay, thanks, Mr. Jeff, have a great weekend..."

She looks at me funny all the way through the parking lot. When we get in the car, Schmoopie asks me what "that" was all about. I say "Oh, nothing." She demands to know what Mr. Jeff was telling me about her. Kids. They always think it's about them.

But I did tell the GITB about it when we got home. He laughed his ass off but when he realized I wasn’t kidding he was very impressed and high-fived me. He made a good point: I am afternoon pick-up parent. The GITB is morning drop-off parent. Because I do not wake-up for real until at least 10:00 a.m. So “Mr. Jeff” has never seen the GITB. So I can see how he thought I was a single mom. But why an adorable 24-year-old would want to go out with a woman old enough to be his--okay--I can handle it--MOM is beyond me. Maybe it's a school project or something...

Anyway, Schmoopie seems suspicious. Especially since the GITB keeps singing “Stacy’s Mom Has Got it Going On” loudly and quite badly, I might add.