Wednesday, September 03, 2014
Back to School!
And seven hours with other adults that also expect them to follow a simple request, share their space, and follow a list of acceptable behaviors means that maybe, just maybe, it's not that their parents are tyrannical maniacs. It's possible that other adults agree with those parents that throwing your shoes at another person while singing the same line of a song over and over and over in your loudest voice is, truly and honestly, just not an acceptable indoor activity. Our even an outdoor one. But definitely not indoor.
Bless their sweet teachers.
We got out the door and into the car and to the school with three whole minutes remaining before they'd even allow us to drop them off. Out, out, OUT of the car with you, children. I will greet you at 3:35 PM with a ready ear, a smiling face, a meal plan, and a hug.
Meanwhile, Rob and I took the day off as Freedom Day and enjoyed a seventeen mile bike ride in which not one person whined about the pace or how closely someone else was riding to them or demanded to stop to use a restroom or pick up a leaf or rescue a caterpillar or ask about lunch. I'm looking at you, August.
And now we're home and thinking thoughts and making phone calls and not one person has interrupted to tell me that another person has climbed to the top of a rickety pile of things to get a thing that was hidden up there for exactly the purpose of keeping it out of said person's hands and now that person has taken the thing and used it and broken it and also is hurt. I'm looking at you, Katie and Jorge. I'm looking at nearly every day of you.
And not one sweet voice has demanded that I stop everything to wipe a bottom, correct a sibling, describe our next meal in detail, provide just one more piece of scotch tape, or consider letting them do something partially impossible and entirely dangerous.
It's a little intoxicating, honestly.
And just when it starts to get a little dull, they'll tumble out of the doors and back into the car with voices shouting over each other to tell us about how it was just the best day ever and that their friends are all doing crazy exciting things and who had a hair cut and who is taller and which friends they spent their day near and how they didn't have time to eat lunch because they were just so busy talking. And we'll rush and rumble through the afternoon and into the dinner and right up to bedtime with "and then..." and "but did I tell you.." and "tomorrow we'll..." until it's quiet again. And again. And again.
Bless their sweet teachers. This is the pace at which we excel.