I am a big fat sucker

How, I ask you, am I supposed to be immune to this face?

He has me wrapped around his little finger, and HE KNOWS IT, the little buggar. Most of the time I can resist, but every now and then I succumb. Case in point: a few days ago, I stopped in his classroom to wave goodbye on my way home. I was holding a stack of stuff with my calendar on top, so he starts staring back & forth from my calendar to me. Now begins the guessing game, since yes & no questions are the main way of getting any information out of the boy.

Is it about the Shamrock Marathon? (he is doing the 8k with our local chapter of Team Hoyt this morning).

Well, he is looking forward to that, but no.

Is it about his birthday next month?

No.

Is it about the bike ride next month? (Holy crap! that's next month? I need to get busy)

No.

Hmmmmm, I can't think of anything else coming up. Is it about something else on my calendar?

Yes.

The panic look starts to come over my face. What on earth is he talking about? He knows I have trouble with this sometimes and he laughs at me. Laughs!

Is it something you are doing?

No.

Is it something I am supposed to do?

Yes.

But I don't . . . . wait, it's coming . . . . BINGO! I got it. The look of dawning comprehension comes over my face and he laughs at me AGAIN!

Here's the story. He gets back spasms due to his muscle problems, and I started giving him massages when we went to Blacksburg for the football game. He had been in his wheelchair for hours, and he was hurting, so I worked on his back before bed.

Well, Mr. "I-never-forget" never let me forget either, and he has been asking for massages ever since. I can't accommodate every request, otherwise I would be doing this every day. And he isn't even on my caseload. He has other people who can do this, right? Right? I do know that, really I do.

A couple months ago, he asked again. I finally told him okay, but it couldn't be until Friday, since I was busy, but that I would write it in my calendar so I wouldn't forget. He wanted to see his name written in my calendar as proof, so I showed it to him. In ink.

That's what he wanted this time. He wanted another appointment. In ink. So I hemmed and hawed for a minute, but he knew. He knew. He knew I couldn't say no.

In his defense, he doesn't ask all that often, because he knows I can't do it all the time.

So I opened my calendar and wrote his name in it. In ink. Spa treatment.

http://www.melbourne.grand.hyatt.com/hyatt/images/hotels/melbo/spa_features_masthead.jpg

Except no candles, no flowers, no heated blankets, no soothing music, the towels are generic white, and the cream is unscented. Otherwise, just the same.

A soothing moment to end a busy week.