Every night at dinner, we go around the table and ask each person what their best and worst things were about the day. Last night, J said, "I didn't really have a best thing. I guess winning the spelling bee at school." What? First let me say that I am a failed Oregon state spelling bee contestant. Spelling is very dear to my heart and my idea of a good time is playing computer Scrabble. "So what's the next step?" I say, trying to sound calm and hold back visions of J entering the National Spelling Bee wearing a black satin robe with the words, "Jack Spellington" embroidered on the back, punching the air with little pocket dictionaries.

"Oh, I told my teacher I wasn't interested in competing. I only entered the spelling bee because they made us. Spelling's boring, mom." You can imagine what I'm thinking here. I'm trying not to start screeching like a monkey while at the same time respecting his choice. Monkey screeching won out. I stopped short of paying him to continue. We'll see what he decides to do, but I'm buying three yards of black satin just in case...