Time Out.

Last night Andy had a bunch of calls to make for work.

Parents aren't always particularly thrilled to get a call from a total stranger, informing them that their child qualifies for state-funded remedial tutoring.

Although the news really isn't nearly so insulting as they might think... under the No Child Left Behind Act, schools can't afford to waste valuable resources on students in the bottom quartile.

At any rate, Andy suspected that calling over the dinner hour might not help matters, but it was 5:30, and the calls had to be made. He thought about waiting until 7, but I vehemently nixed that idea. We did not hire a babysitter so I could sit at Starbucks and twiddle my thums while he made Title I calls. Besides, there's a reason why telemarketers always call over dinner. They're more likely to be home.

So he really was looking a bit guilty when he shut himself into the boys' room to make the calls in peace.

That's certainly how Isaiah interpreted it anyway. As he heard the door click, he grinned up at me.

"Dadder uh-oh!"

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