- Red Buttons
True story: I worked for the Glendale YMCA during college heading up their teen programs. One summer the "Y" didn't (or wouldn't) find a permanent director for their elementary summer school program so five of the staff each had to take a two-week tour of duty as camp director. The counselors were the same all summer and the program didn't vary, so really you were there to provide an authoritative face to the kids and their parents.
The very first day of my stint as summer day-camp director, I showed up to the park early with donuts for the staff. There were some familiar faces and the counselors started giving me the run-down . . . "We check the kids in at that picnic table over there . . . the parents sign them out at the end of the day . . " and so on.
Then one of the counselors exclaimed, "Oh no . . "
"What?" I responded.
"Tavin is here . . ."
I turned to see a second-grader marching toward the table. He had an over-sized teenage-mutant-ninja-turtle backpack on and a mat of bleach-blond hair. He looked like a real-life version of Calvin from the Calvin and Hobbes cartoon.
Never one to back down from a fight (with a 7-year-old), I approached the little 3-foot terror and stuck out my right hand in greeting and said, "Good morning, Tav . . ."
That's when the little sucker punched me right in the yarbles.
And let me tell you, a little fist that size can be quite precise.
I went down like a sack of potatoes and he marched right on past without missing a step . . .
Good times.
And you thought Red Buttons was just being funny . . .
Let's see . . . Tavin would be about 27 by now . . . where's that phone book . . .?
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