And then there are laughs that amuse only me

We had "Meet the Teacher" recently at the elementary school. We always go just to make sure the teacher assignments are what I thought (ahem, unofficially requested) them to be. Since I have volunteered so much in the past, some of the teachers are old favorites, and I like to say hello.

Of course, I didn't leave work on time, so I was late, and the kids had already gone around to meet their teachers. I decided to make the rounds anyway and as we were heading back to the car, I ran into one, an old favorite who has a child Nolan's age. We've compared notes over the years about what the kids are doing and my two that are still there really enjoy his class, so I was a little surprised that as he came up to me, smiling, holding out his hand, he looked like he was struggling to remember my name.

"Hi," *pause* "Eri...Erika," he said, stammering a little. He had that look on his face people get when they know they are saying the wrong thing but it's too late and they've committed, so they say it anyway. He shook my hand a little awkwardly, so I said, in a low voice:

"I thought we agreed never to repeat my stage name."

Had he been paying attention and not looking over my shoulder to take in the chaos around us, it would have been pretty funny. Instead, he turned his attention back to me and asked "What?"

"I said, 'How was your summer?'"