When a Hug Is Not a Hug

Our neighborhood school has two teachers who regularly welcome parent volunteers into their classrooms. I am fortunate that two of my children are in those classes this year. My time volunteering in there has taught me a lot about who these two children are when they are not with me. That's always worth the 7 minute drive, the not-always welcoming greeting by front office staff, and the brief look of unbridled joy momentary panic on my children's faces when I walk into their classrooms.Last week, my task in the second grade was to hang these fine examples of art work on a clothes line.Now, we all know that there's always a problem when I get involved in anything. The trouble I caused encountered in this case was that the clothesline had been put up by a teacher too tall for my own good. So, stretching every cell in my body, I managed to just barely get each child's picture up on that line.Mystery #1: A couple of children sitting directly under the hanging penguins noticed that their hair was suddenly getting wet. I'll let you try to solve this one. Mystery #2: Every time I stretched and teetered while hanging a picture, my child would hug me. He does seem to enjoy my time in his class, but the affection was a bit oppressive. What was going on?*****SOLUTIONS TO MYSTERIES:#1: The kids with the newly wet hair were very agreeable to my suggestion that dripping glue can be used as hair gel.#2: Kenseth says that every time I stretched, my shirt rode up my midriff a bit and my skin was exposed. The hugs were his way of keeping my body private. After all, he would never want his buddies to see my skin. Never.I believe I am embarrassed.