Like Father, like Son (but new and improved)

My 12-year-old son pipes up in class, and says to his attractive young teacher, “Please, Miss… Can you demonstrate how to twerk?” All Hell breaks loose, because, as you know (and as a respectable young lady teacher should not really know) to twerk means to dance while wiggling her bottom provocatively.

Fast forward to his end-of-term report… ‘Miss’ gives him a glowing report.

“Chip off the old block!” (Play his cards even half-way right, and he’s in there, like a rat up a drain-pipe!)

Actually, he’s done better than me. I would never have dared…

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He gave me a printed certificate saying, “Headmaster’s Commendation for Excellent Work.” I told him that I was so pleased, that I was going to frame it to show my friends. “Oh,” he said dismissively, “I’ve had lots of those!”

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It had been at the back of my mind for years, whether, “Cor! I fancy her, and I’m strong enough to hold her down while I make use of her body for my pleasure,” was really the best way to select genetic material for my offspring’s mother. But it seems to have worked out nicely.

Good on you, Mother Nature! You did know best after all!

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