A Little Levity: Peer Pressure
The other night, Duane came in from a late evening catfishing with Lawson. He shipped Lawson off to quietly take his shower, as the rest of the house was abed, and went to take his own. He paused at the bathroom door, though, scratching his head. I set the Kindle I was reading down in my lap so I could listen to whatever it was he clearly had on his mind.
“You know,” he began, “a funny thing happened today.”
“I could’ve sworn I was 37 years old.”
A smile I couldn’t repress began to play over my lips. “What?” He looked a little sheepish, but repeated himself. “Where do you get that from?”
“Well…J and I were having lunch today, and somehow we got on the subject of birthdays and our ages and stuff, and he asked me how old I was. When I told him I was 37, he said, ‘nah, man, you’re 38.‘ “
“He did?!” I started to laugh at this point. “Duane, you are 37 years old, honey.”
“Are you sure?”
His entire body relaxed. I hadn’t realized it until that point, but he had been holding a breath, or tension all along his frame. He ran his hand through his non-existent hair, shaved in his perpetual buzz, and let out a laugh. “I could’ve sworn I was! I just…didn’t…he said ‘do the math, man,’ and when I did the math, I came up with 38! You know, 1974, and 2012…”
“Well, sure, December 1974, and December 2012. Not 38 until then.” I continued to laugh. It was welling up, and I was helpless against the deep giddy belly giggles that issued forth. “Do the math, man.” I paused for a moment. “Does J think he is 38?”
“Well, yeah!” Duane was laughing, too.
You know how sometimes you get to laughing so hard you snort? That was me. Snorting. And trying to snort quietly, because I definitely did not want to wake the baby down the hall. “I am going to call that idiot,” I vowed. “Tell him to do the math. Better yet, I’m going to talk to his wife and see what she thinks about his fantastic math skills.”
This, folks, is the case for math classes in school.