The Parent-Teacher Conference
I suddenly feel like a naughty little schoolboy
I grit my teeth in annoyance as the email comes in. Ugh. Yet another meeting to put on my calendar. This time, a parent-teacher conference for my son, Jesse — the first one of the school year.
I click on the link to pick a time, and of course, most of the slots are already taken. Sighing, I select the last one of the night. I’ll have to ask my sister if she can watch Jesse again.
At least I’ll finally get to meet the famous Mrs. Robinson. My son is her biggest fan — in his nine years, I’ve never heard him talk more about any other teacher. I’d missed Meet-the-Teacher night when school started because I was out of town for work. My sister ended up taking Jesse to it. This time, I get to do my fatherly duty.
Life as a single dad is rough.
I enter the classroom, almost bumping into a mother on her way out. I apologize and step aside as a lovely, lilting voice says, “Hi! You must be Jesse’s Dad!”
Looking in the direction of the voice, I’m stunned, speechless. The owner of the voice is a looker, with a neatly tied-back chestnut ponytail and a gorgeous smile. She’s wearing a modest dress befitting a teacher, but even so, it still hugs her curves. I can tell she has a rocking body underneath.
