In my lunatic frenzy of "I have 8 million loads of laundry to do" yesterday (Okay, fine. I'm exaggerating. It was only 4 million loads) I looked up and noticed that I only had five minutes to get to school and pick up Joey. Ack!
As quickly as I could I grabbed the two little monkeys, pried the toys out of their little mitts, and began forcing them into their boots, mittens, hats, and jackets at lightening speed. They squirmed, cried, and complained and I ranted and shouted about how we were "going to be late!". With much fuss we made it into the car. I threw them into their car seats, buckled them in, jumped into the drivers seat, and flew out of the driveway. Okay, that isn't entirely true. I wanted to fly down the driveway, but EVERYTHING WAS COVERED IN ICE. Flipping ice. So instead of driving at warp speed like I wanted to I actually drove under the speed limit so that I wouldn't slide right through the stop signs.
The whole way there (all 10 blocks) I was picturing my poor boy, my oldest, my worrier, standing in the back of school freezing his little tushie off. I could see his big, beautiful eyes unsuccessfully searching the parking lot for our minivan. I pictured those same big eyes fill with tears and his little eyebrows raised in question. I just knew he would be thinking, "Doesn't anyone love me? I'm all alone! I've been abandoned!". My poor baby!
I rounded the corner and pulled into the parking lot. What was this? There was no one there. Man, I must be even later than I thought! Poor Joey! Did the teacher take him back inside? Should I run in and check? Are they watching for me from the door? I glanced at my clock again to see just how late I was. Um, what? Does that say 10:36? Ten? TEN? Joey doesn't get out of school until 11:30! I was an hour early! Good lawd, what is happening to me? I must be loosing my mind. I can't even tell time anymore.
I turned the van around to go back home when Tommy said, "Why aren't we getting Joey? I want my Joey!"
I said, "Well, honey, mumma read the clock wrong and we weren't supposed to be here for another hour. We have to go back home and come back in a little while."
Tommy began to cry again, "But, I want my Joey! Can't I just have my Joey?"
So I said the only thing I could think of to restore the peace, "How about a cookie instead?"
Tommy stopped crying in .02 seconds and cheerfully said, "Okay!" And the rest of the morning was peaceful.
That is, until 45 minutes later when I had to pry the toys out of their little mitts, and force them into their boots, mittens, hats, and jackets.