An inadvertent April Fools joke on my wife

I'm going to go to Cathy Cutting's fifth-grade class at Haggerty Elementary School on April 18 to talk to her students about my journalism career. I've done it before. It's sure fun for me, and the kids appear to be engaged.

As I was waiting in Mrs. Cutting's classroom the other day for Queen Isabella to arrive, I noticed she had a poster on the wall about grammar and punctuation. I thought, wow, I could make this a teachable moment, and talk to the kids about the importance of writing effectively, and the role of good grammar.

When I suggested it, Mrs. Cutting immediately bit, and I was thrilled. But, how to go about doing it with 30 some-odd 11-year-olds? I had the idea of taking a previously-published column I wrote about my grandson Noah, and introducing into the story grammar and spelling errors.

I put it on my wife Jan's family room chair for her to review it, and said no more. Early Sunday afternoon, April 1, Jan settled in the chair, and began to read the hard copy of the column, riddled with errors.

"What is this?" she asked. "Youuuu, you haven't submitted this for publication, have you?"

I paused for a moment, wondering what she meant. And then I recalled what I'd done, and why, and I explained it to her. We had to laugh. The column was an unmitigated writing disaster, precisely what I'd intended. I hope it plays well in the classroom next month. Here's a preview, errors and all. How many mistakes can you find?

Packing for Noah

The event roles around once each week. I begin to anticipate it like a little kid about 48 hours before it's scheduled. Theres a spring in my step as I look forward to it, and a lilt in my voice. Life just got a litttle bit - nay, a whole lot - better.

We begin to peck to go see him about a day before, putting staff on the kitchen table to bring to him.

A tennis ball. lunch. My work stuff, although I rarely do any real work that day; may be a phone call or two. New teaching tools, cleverly disguised as toys, like a "shape ball" that holds inside it different plastic shapes like a circle, a square, a hexagon, and about a dozen others.

Noah is asked to find the right fit in the plastic ball for each shape. On our most recent visit, he mastered the skill of holding the shape at just the right angle to insert thru the opening.

He knows now how to spell his name. I bring a small plastic lisense plate that I purchased inWalmart with his name on it, but I forget the zip ties that would secure it to something, and I bring it home. Next visit.

I work with him on how to spell "Pa”. He can repeet the spelling when I say it, but when I check a couple hours later, he's forgotten, Well work on it.

He point to where the poster of the Blue Angels, soaring skyward, used to be on his bedroom door. It's no longer there hanging on the door, and a couple missing paint chips are in its place. Pa did it.

He'd like a new poster of the planes, he says I say I'll work on it.

There are as many as three trips to the car to brung in the stuff when we babysit for Noah. I bet the stuff, all told, weighs several lbs.

We sometimes don't use the stuff that we bring in but no worries. Its best to be prepared.

When he suceeded at putting the shape in the right whole, I shouted "Ta-daaaaaaaaaaaa!" He got it right away, and as he worked on the next shape, we waited expectently for the big moment, andwhen he succeeded the room exploded with shouting and laffter , between Amma, and Pa, and Noah.

Before we left to go home, Noa and I hid in the bedroom closet. I go in 1st, he follows and closes the closet door behind us. Its dark in there, but only for a moment, because as I look down I can see the little hand reaching for the door knob.

The door opens (his parents have had to put new childproof locks that replaced the simpler ones he figured out and we tiptoe through the bedroom speed picking up as we reach the hallway, and it's a sprint toward the living room as Amma, who is evidently not aware not aware of our approach is blissfully relaxed until Noah hits the arm of the couch and says "Boo!" to Amma. She is startled, and shouts, and few moments later I run up and shoot "Boo!" again. Once again, she is fritened out of her wits.

A good day, by any defanition.