Today I got kicked in the head. Now, usually when I use this phrase, I mean it metaphorically... you know... like I had a bad day or something a lot less than pleasant happened. But today when I say that I got kicked in the head I mean it literally. Ya, I literally got kicked in the head. It hurt. A lot. The abnormally large seven year old boy kicked me in the head. And what started the tantrum that resulted in a kick in the head? The no-breaking-pencils rule. Ya, I wouldn't let him break his pencil... he tantrumed... and I got kicked in the head. At one point (after I blacked out but before his mom got there) I was sitting there holding him down and thinking, "Why in the heck am I here? Is the pay rate sufficient for this kind of crap? And most importantly... who am I?" I learned two very important things today... one - seven year olds can kick really hard and two - I hate my job. And also... I need Taco Bell and/or chocolate... anybody??