Let's Went

“What did I do now?” my husband cried. I looked up from my computer screen.

“Sorry, did I say that out loud?” I sheepishly asked. “I wasn't talking to you, or about you. Honest.”

“Well, I certainly hope so,” Daniel huffed. “I am washing the dishes, you know. I should get a little more respect.”

I know, you're wonderful, and I'm sorry,” I said again. “It's this stupid e-mail from a parent. I just can't believe how ridiculous this is!”

Daniel reached for a kitchen towel to dry his hands. “How come a parent is e-mailing you on a Saturday night?” he asked. “Don't they know that you have a life beyond teaching their little darlings?”

“Sarcasm will get you almost everywhere,” I said.

“That's why I don't resort to just mere flattery,” he smirked. “So which parent is it?”

I leaned back and crossed my arms. “Just guess,” I offered.

Daniel reached up and stroked his chin in a rather exaggerated manner. “Hmm, let's see,” he mused. “You are both exasperated but not overly surprised, so it's someone with a history of going berserker.”

“Berserker is a good word,” I said. “Please, continue.”

“I aim to please,” Daniel said. “You used some rather blue language – even for you – meaning that somehow this person has really crossed your idiot threshold. Which is pretty high, considering this year's crop of parents. And the e-mail was sent on a Saturday, further narrowing the suspects down to...”

“Shall I play you a drumroll?” I quipped.

“Hush, you're interrupting my genius,” Daniel frowned. “Now, where was I?”

“The big reveal?” I prompted.

“Oh, yes! Of course!” Daniel slapped his forehead. “How could I forget? It must be, it has to be, Mrs. Horton!”

I clapped. “Nothing but net on that one!” I cheered.

“So what does the woman want now?” Daniel grinned. “For you to write the perfect letter to get her second grader into Harvard?”

“As if that's going to happen,” I rolled my eyes.

“Are you making judgments about Goldilocks' behavior again?”

“You say once that she deserved to get eaten...” I sighed.

“Did you dare to mention that little Blane's pencil grip needs improving?”

“And get called into the principal's office, like his Kindergarten and first grade teachers did?” I shuddered. “No, he can stick that pencil in his eye before I dare breathe a word that he can't hold it to save his life!”

“Then what is it this time?” Daniel asked.

I felt my shoulders sag under the weight of my sigh. “It's Dad,” I started.

“His Dad?”

I sighed again, “No, my dad.”

Daniel straightened up. “Your dad?” he said. “But your father's been dead eleven years! How could that woman possibly get upset about that?”

“Let me see if I can explain this,” I said, rubbing my forehead. “On Friday, I was teaching past tense verbs, the irregular ones. You know, ones you can't just add -ed to the end and you're done.”

“I get the idea,” Daniel frowned,” but I don't see the problem.”

“I used my father as an example of how irregular verbs can be confusing,” I said.

“Your father had pretty good grammar for someone with his education,” Daniel said.

“I know, but Dad had a quirk that he used all the time,” I explained. “He had an uncle from The Azores who never learned the difference between 'go' and 'went.' So this uncle would say, 'Let's went' all the time. Dad picked it up and said it every time instead of 'let's go.'”

“I sort of remember that,” Daniel said. “I never knew why, but since no one ever said anything I figured it wasn't important.”

“It drove me nuts as a kid,” I said. “It would totally embarrass me when he would say it in front of my friends. And I bet he did it just to embarrass the snot out of me, I'm sure. I finally asked Grandma why he said that, and that's when I learned about this Uncle Marcelo or whatever.”

“So you told the kids about 'let's went' as an example of what not to do,” Daniel said.

“Basically, yes,” I said. “It's a good model for how confusing irregular verbs can be.”

“And Mrs. Horton is upset over you teaching irregular verbs?”

I groaned. “No, she's all upset because when the bell rang at the end of grammar, I said, 'It's recess time. Let's went.'”

Seriously?” Daniel laughed.

“She's convinced I'm illiterate.”

“What did the kids do?” Daniel asked. “Did they all start saying 'let's went'? Did you scar them for life?”

“Oh, you know second graders,” I said. “They laughed and went around for the next hour saying 'Let's went!' until it got boring.” I paused. “None of them seemed to remember it at all by three o'clock. Obviously, darling Blane went home and tattled to Mommy about how mean Mrs. Stevens used the wrong verb tense.”

Daniel came over and sat down at the kitchen table. “Mommy is an idiot,” he said.

“From your mouth to God's ear,” I said. “How the heck do I address this nonsense this time?”

Daniel took my hand and helped me stand up. “I think you need to not answer this until you have a cooler head,” he suggested. “And I know the best way to cool it off.”

“Ice cream?” I asked.

He smiled. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“Great! I'll grab my jacket!” I called as I headed out of kitchen.

I met Daniel at the front door. As he opened the door, I couldn't help but say, “Ready to went?”

Daniel grinned. “Let's went,” he said.

Word count: 982