The Curse of Friday the 13th

Last Friday was the 13th. Noah came home from school in a frenzy. As he began to confide in me his woeful experiences of the day, little tears streamed down his cheeks. He then found it hard to speak. Coughing a couple of times, he blurted out, "It's the curse of Friday the 13th." Emma stood nearby, tears streaming down her face. Her eyes wide open intently listening to Noah's tale to make sure he wouldn't leave anything out. At this point I realized that the drama wasn't just a sibling spat. I reeled Noah closer to me, pulling him on my lap, encouraging him to start from the beginning...
"It started this morning. Dad woke me up late. I didn't have time to sit down for breakfast. I grabbed a bagel and ran out the door. I got up to the corner when a huge dog came running at me. He stole my bagel out of my hand and took off running. I barely made it to choir on time. I was hungry. As we were practicing a boy stole my show right off of my foot and wouldn't give it back to me. The teacher didn't do anything about it. She yelled at me for talking. When it was time for school to start the boy threw my shoe down the hall. I had to track it down. I was late to class. We had a substitute in math. She is mean. It was "PI" day. All the other classes got to have pie to celebrate. NOT US! We had to figure out new stuff on our own. At lunch, I was sitting at a table with my friends. The 6th grader who took my shoe was working as a lunch helper cleaning tables. He came over to me and hit me in the head with the dirty dish rag. He did it again and again. I spilled my lunch. I had to leave. I was still hungry. No one helped me. I didn't do flag core today. If I miss it again I will be thrown out. They are suppose to come and get me for it because my teacher says she isn't responsible for reminding us when to go. They didn't come for me. I don't want to be thrown off. I really love doing it. After school my friend and I were playing a game we invented with origami stars. We battle with them and it is fun. A 4th grader ran over to me and hit me with a stick. I yelled at him. He picked up a rock and threw it at me. It hit me in the head. I pushed the kid. He went crazy and attacked me. We wrestled. His 5th grade brother and Emma tried to get us to stop. His brother picked up a stick and hit me on the back of my neck. He grabbed his brother, as I grabbed my neck, and ran off. My friend didn't do anything. Emma was crying and told me to come home. I know everything happened because it's the curse of Friday the 13th."
Sometimes I forget how truly awful life can be when one is little. After the tale we dried up tears, I phoned the school to inform them about the unnecessary use of sticks and rocks, and then dished up huge bowls of ice cream for all of my kids. The hugs & ice cream seemed to remedy some of the misery, and definitely ended the curse of the 13th by 2 pm. The rest of the day was filled with laughter.