"'Good God! Don't jump!' The boy sat on the ledge, An old man who had fainted was revived.

And everyone agreed 'twould be a miracle indeed if the boy survived.

'Save the life of my child!' cried the desperate mother...'What's becoming of the children?' people asking each other." Simon and Garfunkle.

I was up to my armpits in cookie dough when the phone rang.
When I see the school's number on my phone, I'm almost afraid to pick up.

Nurse: Mrs. O'Clair, everything is alright. This is Nurse P. Harrison has been here in my office. He jumped off the top of Wonder Works.
(Wonder Works is the big wooden playground structure).
Me: -stunned silence-
(I was confused. My kid is in the gifted program. He doesn't drop acid. He doesn't think he can fly. He's an active boy, but he is not *that* active. Why would he jump off the top of Wonder Works?)
Nurse: (filling in the awkward gap that comes with a stunned silence, or reading my mind) Harrison was being chased by some little girls and jumped off the top of Wonder Works.

Me: Is he alright?
Nurse: Oh, he is alright. Joey broke his fall.
Me: Is Joey alright?
Nurse: Yes, Joey is alright. Both boys are alright. They have been here in the office with ice packs. The principal will be speaking with the fifth grade. There will be no more Boy/Girl chase games.
Me: Boy/Girl chase games? They have Boy/Girl chases games? Did they kiss him?
Nurse: No, they don't usually catch them. When they do, I don't think they kiss them. Not in this grade. Maybe in some of the younger ones.

Me: The principal is going to talk to the whole fifth grade?
Nurse: Yes. There will be no more boy/girl chase games.
"
Me: (mentally processing the social stigma attached to being the one responsible for the banning of yet another playground activity. "Damn," I'm thinking. "If she is going to talk to the whole fifth grade, this is big. Fly Boy got some 'splainin to do.")
Me: (not sure why I am even having this conversation) Now there won't be any chase games on the playground? All I have heard all year is how lame recess is since they banned tackle football. Now there can be no chase games either?
Nurse: They can play flag football in gym. I don't like when they play tackle football. They can play flag football.
Me: Yes. I see. Do I need to come pick him up?
Nurse: I sent him back to class. I will call him back up to check on him in a little while.

Harrison has a history of amusing playground issues. If I can get his permission, I will post about that tomorrow. In the meantime, here is the rest of the story.

At pickup Harrison seemed just fine.
I delivered to Nurse P some of the cookies I had been baking and thanked her for taking care of him. I thanked Joey for breaking his fall.

Harrison insisted on taking me to the playground -
or shall we call it The Scene Of The Crime.
I asked Harrison to show me the spot from which he jumped.
He gave me a bewildered look.
"JUMP? I didn't jump! Why would I jump from up there?"
He pointed to the tower. He had a point. I knew he was smarter than that. Did I mention he is in the gifted program?

According to Harrison, He Was PUSHED!
Ah Hah!
You see, the way he tells it, he was in the tower, at Boy Headquarters. The girls, they have different headquarters over at the balance beam that is really far away. The girls had been building leaf piles and the boys were sneaking over and trying to destroy the leaf piles by scattering the leaves. After making a sneak attack, the boys would all split up and run back to HQ.

They were all huddled in Boy Headquarters planning strategy for their next attack when TWO GIRLS infiltrated the tower, grabbed Harrison and threw him out the window.

So, I used the wrong song today! I should have started today's post with the nursery rhyme polka lyrics by Trout Fishing In America that goes:
"Georgie Porgie Puddin' and pie, kissed the girls and made them cry. When the boys came out to play they threw them out the window, the window, they threw them out the window. When the boys came out to play, they threw them out the window!"

"Dude," Eden asked while looking up,"That's a really big fall. How did it feel to fall from up there?"
"It felt good until I hit the ground," he answered.

Standing on the wooden platform where he landed, on my tiptoes, with my arms fully extended above my head, I cannot reach the tower window. I'm all for fun, and I have nothing against a friendly boy/girl rivalry, but how dare those little *&^$#@% throw my kid out the window!

Maybe they don't know or care, but I remind you, because I don't get to remind people of this nearly enough -
I puked a dozen times a day for the 43 weeks weeks that I carried that child.
I was on freakin' bedrest with that pregnancy.
I pushed for six hours trying to birth that 9 pound 7 ounce baby. Have you seen the size of that kid's head? It's huge! I worked hard to bring that kid into the world, and I would like to keep him and his freakishly big head around, with all his teeth, with his huge head intact and without any brain trauma, if possible. I mean, if the fifth grade girls don't mind, of course.

Now I understand why the principal will be talking to the whole fifth grade on Monday.
Come Monday, I might just have to so some talking myself. It might be time for a Come To Jesus meeting with some little girls. In fact, it might be time for Mama to infiltrate Girl Headquarters and kick some fifth grade ass.

I got your Headquarters, Girls! Right Here!
You wanna throw someone out the window, you go ride ahead.
Just gather up your little girlfriends and throw my fat ass out the window. Just don't leave anyone out. You may need some sixth graders too.

Come on.
Have at it.
Yeah, that's what I thought.
Damn right he's a Mama's Boy. You got a problem with that?