Game Face

Beauty in the day: he came and sat in a chair in the office, the little Spanish-Irish-Gaelic singer. After a few minutes, and with a loud sigh, he approached my desk.
“So, I came here so that I could sort of calm down,” he announced, his arms punctuating his point with large, sweeping motions. “Now I just need to play a game for the best amount of calmness.” His eyes darted meaningfully to the box of brand-new, yet-unopened games that were purchased for Rainy Day Recess.
“No, I don’t think you’re supposed to play a game, actually,” I countered. He saw the principal and went down the hall to chat. Actually, he never made contact with him, but made a valiant effort at appearing to.
Returning, he met me with news. “Yes, so I talked with the principal, and he agreed that I should play a game to (sweeping arms) help me calm down.”
Cocking an eyebrow, I made a suggestion. “Okay, I need to go talk to the principal, because I don’t know which game he would like you to play to calm down.” (yes, I swept my arms accordingly).
His head dropped downward dramatically, and he exhaled slowly and expressively. “Fiiiine. I’ll just go back to classssss.” He started away, then added, “You don’t need to talk to the principal.”

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