I was greeting the children today when I heard a loud voice booming down the hallway. I didn't need to look up from the Hello Kitty backpack I was holding to know who that voice belonged to.
It was Frank.
"Mrs. SMYTHE!" he was yelling, intent on reaching me to share some obviously important information. "I went to the EYE doctor!"
"Wow!" I said, genuinely excited to see him as he knocked me over with a huge bear hug.
"Yeah," he continued with a smile, "I gotta get glasses! My own glasses! I'm smear-sighted."
"Don't you mean near-sighted?" I asked, trying to help him out.
"Naw. When I look at the board everything is all smeary, and when I get glasses, it'll be all not-smeary."
And with that, he turned and raced down the hall in a cloudy, smeary ball of dust.
Money, baby. That boy is totally money.