Mrs. Hillbilly Mom spreads joy throughout Hillmomba on a regular basis. Sometimes, it is a calculated effort. Sometimes, it is inadvertent. Case in point:
Last Monday, I was standing in the hall between classes as required by the faculty handbook, but ignored by the hoity-toities. Starter came traipsing down the hall, all cherub-faced and Boy Scoutish, his tongue no doubt wound tight as the rubber-band propeller on a Balsa Sky Streak glider in preparation to disrupt my class.
Yet something was different about Starter. I couldn't quite put my finger on it. I hadn't seen the lad for four days, what with Thanksgiving break, and he looked different, by cracky! It wasn't the hair length or the facial features or the manner of dress or glasses or braces or hair color. Then it hit me. The little imp looked taller!
Hey! You look taller today. Did you get new shoes?
What? Are you kidding me?
No. You look taller.
You just made my day!
It wasn't intentional.
Seriously. Finally!
No different shoes?
No. This is great! I'm so happy!
Well, you DO look taller.
Maybe I'm five four and a HALF now, instead of five four!
I didn't know he would flip out. He really did look taller. Of course, he talked about it at lunch, and saw me making copies on my plan time and stopped outside the teacher workroom door to thank me again, and told all his teammates again at basketball practice until they razzed him unmercifully.
But he really DID look taller.
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