It's possible that I could host an entire blog composed of nothing but Chris stories. I would like to describe him for you, but I'll just post occasional conversations. This one occurred today. Keep in mind that I do NOT teach kindergarten. I teach high school.
Chris [pretending to cry]: You haven't made my hat!
Me: Yours is next in line. I took a break from them for a little while.
If you haven't been following my blog, I made the mistake of crocheting a beanie hat for one of my students. Thirty-three beanies later, I still haven't finished the list.
Chris: Do you even remember what color?
Me: Of course. You wanted black.
And then, because educated doesn't necessarily mean smart, I made the mistake of asking:
Me: Do you want plain black? Or black with flecks?
Chris: What are flecks?
I will spare you the lengthy description I offered of what flecks are. He finally agreed, if he could have red flecks. I tried to explain that you couldn't request a certain color of flecks, they are multi-colored and scattered throughout the yarn.
We went online and looked for pictures of yarn with flecks, but I couldn't find one that got the point across. At least not to Chris.
Chris: I can't decide. This is like being on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? and I'm out of lifelines.
Me [once I got my breath back from laughing so hard]: How about I make one of each, and you can just pick which one you want?
Chris: You would do that for me?
A couple of weeks ago, on his way out the door, Chris and I had THIS conversation:
Chris: I hope nobody steals my shoes.
Me: What shoes? Where are they?
Chris: On my feet.