how long are you on vacation?

That was the question my mom kept asking me last week. She imagined that I’m off work for weeks on end. I didn’t do much to set her straight with my awkward answer of, well, I’m really just sneaking away, keeping in touch with email, reading students’ papers and typing up feedback, I’ll have to get back to my research soon and I need to finish my syllabus for next semester. Oh, and my grades need to be finished and turned in.

All of this I can do from home, in between Christmasey things and Kid things, except the grades. So, I’m dragging poor Kid into school today to sit in a corner while I put together the spreadsheet for my Intro class. I remember tagging along with my mom to work when I was about Kid’s age, when she sometimes had to work on a Saturday. I remember the old-school switchboard with all the cords, and the neat-o rolling chairs and phones with buttons. I think I used to actually file stuff for my mom, or at least she let me think so. It was good times. Somehow, I can’t imagine that Kid will think the same.

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