"Hello Mrs. Little. This is Vice Principal Mr. LongGreekname from your son's school. He needs math tutoring over the summer to survive Grade 6 in the fall." Click! Dial-tooooone.
The Huz had already left Montreal for summer in England with the 11 year old boy and his eldest sister, so when I Skyped them to relay the message there were cries of dismay.
The family is back in Montreal, summer vacation is nearly over and the boy suddenly announces he can't wait to get a "mouse".
In fact he can talk of little else. It's all "mouse this" and "mouse that".
"What about the pets you already have? The monster goldfish in the Swamparium...
...the three smelly guinea pigs...
...and the depraved canine...?"
But he can't hear me.
"I'm gonna train my mouse and I'm gonna build a mouse cage with tubes and I'm gonna get a fancy mouse and I'm gonna mouse mouse mouse mousey mouse mouse infinity mouse!"
I decide to quiz the boy on multiplication and division with big numbers. Whereupon he flings himself around the room, kicking and screeching like an angry chimpanzee.