BUCKING THE SYSTEM: YOU'D THINK MY HUSBAND TOOK SHOPPING LESSONS FROM DAD

It was a major event this week when we prepared Jerry for his first day of summer school.

I was up at 5:30 Monday morning to make sure we had plenty of time to get everyone dressed and fed and out the door by 7:30. I made Jerry a hot breakfast (microwavable pancakes, one of his favorites), and Patrick performed an impromptu song and dance called "You're Going to Summer School, You're Going to Summer School" that brought the house down.

We talked with our son about the need for good manners and behavior, and after washing Jerry's face for a fourth and final time, we were off.

Registering Jerry was a family affair, and after a final kiss and wave, Patrick and I nervously left the building. I knew my husband also was apprehensive, despite his repeated denials, because of the way he kept insisting Jerry wasn't nervous and would be the life of the school.

But Patrick's nervousness and Jerry's first day of school aren't the real subject of this column. It's what happened between the first and second days that make this a perfect Father's Day column.

You see, summer-school teachers send a supply list home so parents can purchase items the children will need during the three-week session. The list included your standard scissors and pencils, but from there it got interesting. Mrs. Eichholz also wanted Jerry to bring a bottle of glue, a box of crayons (8 or 16), and a pencil box to keep everything in.

What she didn't know was that my husband would be the parent buying the supplies, and that her list just wasn't specific enough in terms of amounts or sizes.

I knew something was way off kilter when I saw the bag holding the supplies, because it was much too crowded to hold just enough for a three-week program. After I opened the bag, I had to wonder if I had married my father, because the supplies looked exactly like the oversized stuff my sister and I always received when my dad did the shopping.

Take for example the glue bottle, which was not the two-inch bottle that would have been just right for little hands to grip. No, this bottle was the one adults hold onto for several years to complete numerous projects, the ones little kids squeeze with both hands so they can create a major mess that some adult will have to clean up.

And even though Mrs. Eichholz specified that the crayon pack have 8 to 16 colors, she didn't indicate for my husband exactly which section of a specific aisle in a particular store he should begin his search. Since he didn't know, he took the first box he came across. It was a 27-pack.

I guess I should be grateful he didn't buy the 64-count box that has the sharpener on the back.

And then there was the pencil box. No compact supply case was right for Jerry, so Patrick bought a container the size of a flat lunch box or an oversized frozen entree for my child to lug around school. Of course, with the supersized glue bottle and crayon pack, he needed a larger case to carry that stuff in.

He should be commended for remembering to purchase the pencil box in purple, which is Jerry's favorite color.

Like I said, I think somehow I've married a blood relation, because these are exactly the types of things my dad did when I went to school. In fact, when I detailed the supply list to my parents, my dad defended Patrick's purchases.

"He had to make sure the boy had enough, didn't he?"

All I can say is, like father-in-law, like son.

Tamara Zellars Buck is a staff writer for the Southeast Missourian.