Friday 7 March 2014

Baby's First Forgery

A couple of nights ago after I got home from work, my husband called me from his job to tell me he got a message from Frick's science teacher.  He was confused as to why she would be calling him.  The school knows to contact me first as I am the parent that handles the school stuff.  The only time they call him is usually because they tried me first and I wasn't available.

He told me she was wondering about an overdue science assignment that one of us had apparently signed a note acknowledging that we knew it was overdue about a week ago.  It was still not handed in and she was wondering what was going on.  He wasn't clear on any more details than that because his work voice mail sounded like crap.

I have to admit that for a second this information worried me.  Not because there was an overdue project unaccounted for, but because I couldn't remember anything about signing a note and for one second, one teeny-tiny second, I began to wonder if it were possible that I could have signed something without realizing what it was.

This didn't sound like something I would do.  Usually when Frick hands me something from the school to sign I scrutinize it carefully to find out a) whether or not I am agreeing to something I shouldn't, like I would when signing any document, and b) what kind of trouble/problems with schoolwork Frick might have caused/experienced so that I can get into problem solving mode.

I will admit that during that teeny-tiny second of doubt I didn't want to admit that it was possible that Frick had somehow managed to take advantage of a moment of distraction to get the better of me.  Just as I was mentally preparing myself to have to admit I probably dropped the ball somewhere my Mommy-senses kicked in.

Maybe the reason I didn't remember signing anything is because I'm not the parent who signed it.  That would definitely explain why the teacher called my husband instead of me.  I asked him if he signed anything recently and he told me he has never signed anything from the school ever because that's kind of my jurisdiction.  This is when we figured out that the most reasonable explanation was that Frick had forged his signature.

We confronted Frick about all this and he caved and readily admitted to the forgery.  Later on my husband admitted to being reluctantly proud of Frick.  After all, haven't we all tried forging our parent's signature at one point or the other?  Even I have memories of painstakingly copying my parents' loopy scrawls and flourishes so that not even Sherlock Holmes would know the difference, and I was a model student.  Oh, the nostalgia!

He told me it was a shame Frick hadn't taken advantage of the forgery to hand in his assignment, otherwise we might never have found out.  I laughed and then smacked him on the arm and told him to shut up.

The next day, as per our request, Frick's teacher sent home a photocopy of the forged signature.  When Frick handed it over he was probably baffled by the fact that I started giggling.

This forgery was terrible.  Calling it a 'forgery" is a misnomer and an insult to all other forgeries.

First of all the signature was in printing, not cursive.  The writing was so obviously Frick's that is was clear he hadn't even bothered trying to disguise it.  And he hadn't even included the entire last name.  I wish so hard I could show you guys a picture of it but it has my husband's real name.  Imagine something along the lines of an extremely childish scrawl reading "Daddy R".

When I tried to imagine my husband signing cheques to pay our bills with a childishly printed "Daddy R" my giggles turned into guffaws.  Frick wanted to know what was so funny.  Wiping the tears out of my eyes I told him, "Honey, I love you but I think you just ought to stick to being honest because you really do suck at being devious. (Snert.)"

"Does this mean I'm not in trouble anymore?"  he asked, hopefully.

"Oh God, no.  You are so totally grounded, Darling Boy."

I think it is a testimony to the compassion and understanding of Frick's science teacher that she initially accepted this signature, despite some pretty serious suspicions.  She clearly considered the possibility that my husband never mastered cursive, or perhaps suffered some kind of injury that made handwriting difficult for him.

It's nice to know my kid has such great teachers.

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