When ABC isn’t as easy as 1-2-3 … or is it?

So, Hubby Man took Middle Man to school the other day so he could prove he knows his ABCs. (Middle Man, not Hubby Man. In case you were wondering.) This is how they prove you’re ready for first grade, from what I’m told.

While this “testing” was going on, I was in Arkansas to cover a story about youth football for my work. There I was, surrounded by men at BW3s, when hubby texted me the following: “OMG. I’m worried about him. He has been in this assessment for more than 40 minutes. Kids are coming and going and he’s still in there.”

Of course, I’m trying to read this message and take it all in while listening to all the guys talk football. I was trying to nod my head and take notes and talk ball while all I could think about was what the hell could be wrong back home with Middle Man’s brain.

WTF? He knows his ABCs. My head is spinning at this point. Is it the sweet tea? Is it because I’m surrounded by dudes, one who LOVES the STEELERS (how cool is that?!)? Or is it because I’m in ARKANSAS, and it’s about 95 degrees?

Or is it because I’m FREAKING OUT that there’s something terribly wrong with our crazy middle child? Who the hell gets flustered by a simple ABCs test?

I apologize to the guys and call my hubby.

“What’s going on? Are you sure he’s STILL IN THERE? Can you make sure he didn’t come out and get abducted or something??!”

Hubby: “Um, yeah, Kasey. Quit freaking out. I’m looking at him through the window. I can see them at the table.”

“Well, what is he doing? What’s he look like?”

“He looks irritated.”

At this point, I start reaching.

“Well, maybe he’s just doing so well she wants to keep talking to him.”

“Uh, no. I can tell that’s not the case. I’m looking at them.”

So I decide there’s nothing I can do, and tell him to call me the minute they get outta there.

Next text: “WTF. We’re still here. An hour. This is supposed to be a 20-minute deal.”

Shortly after, the phone rings.

“He’s out. Everything’s fine.”

I am asking a thousand questions a minute when hubby says: “He’s off the charts.”

I said, “Um, off the charts good or off the charts bad?!”

Hubby: “Off the charts good. She finally came out right after I texted you and she apologized, saying she has to, by state law, keep testing him till he can’t go any farther. They got to Level 10 and stopped because that’s the highest level they test to for first grade. She said he showed no problem whatsoever going that far.”

Picture me. On ground. Tears in eyes. Thanking the lords of wisdom for this one favor.

Holy shit. I really thought something was wrong for a second there, even though I KNEW HE KNEW his damn ABCs. The kid does math problems and reads a little. He can build the most elaborate LEGO pieces … and he makes the entire thing up in his head.

Anyway, that’s when I told my hubby he should listen to me more. My first reaction to him being in the room that long, after all, was that he was doing so well that she wanted to talk to him more.

So there.

Mama knows best.

And even if Middle Man is our freak child, our psycho, loud, off-the-chain kid, he’s still a genius.

We’ll keep him … for now.

Whew! Bring on first grade!

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