It’s picture day at my daughter’s preschool.
I never mention this. I just make sure that Summer’s hair is brushed and pulled back in a gorgeous headband.
As we walk into school, a friend says, “Summer, you look so pretty for pic–”
I start gesturing violently, trying to silently communicate that she must not mention picture day. She either gets this or is frightened by my mad thrashing and abruptly stops talking. I make a mental note to explain the situation to her later. Oh and I look down and make another mental note to stop wearing my shirts inside out to school.
Immediately forget both notes to self.
I say goodbye to Summer and leave it in the hands of the teachers. They are my only hope. One mention of picture day from me and I know Summer will shut it down. There will be no photo. But the teachers… sometimes they can work magic.
Apparently, the school was a bit short on fairy dust. Maybe it’s an extra charge for magic like the extended day or pizza for lunch?
There is no picture. The reason? Summer says, “I didn’t know the guy taking the pictures.” Okay.
Thankfully, on our Florida trip, I snapped this….
The next day it’s pouring. On rainy days, parents can drop their kids in front of the elementary school and everyone just runs inside. But my kindergartener Dylan refuses to do this. She wants me to walk her in. In the rain. With my three other kids.
I don’t have the energy to park and schlep everyone into the school. I offer the highest prize out there in the kid universe… a yard stick of gum.
They actually sell this at the local candy store. Because it’s obviously a snap to throw a yard of gum in your pocket.
I am in a long line of cars. We approach the front of the school. Dylan unbuckles and grabs her backpack. I am silently gleeful. And then I hear sobbing. She’s breaking down. She’s scared. And she won’t get out of the car.
“But honey, the entrance is right there. Just a few yards of gum away. You can do it! It’s no big deal. Run Dylan run!”
There is no running. Just more crying from the back of the minivan.
The crossing guard is yelling at me. The parents behind me are annoyed. I am sweating.
I pull the car up – just enough so that the line of cars can squeeze by and continue the drop-offs. I ignore the icy stare from the crossing guard. I lock the car (with my three other children inside – is this allowed?!), grab Dylan and run her into the entrance of building. Then I sprint back out, hop in the minivan and drive off.
And this is exactly why I don’t have personalized plates.
P.S. I went to the candy store and bought Dylan a human size pack of gum for being so brave and almost getting out of the car.
P.P.S. I bought myself some chocolate malt balls for being so brave and not having a nervous breakdown in the car drop off line.
P.P.P.S. I realize I am willing to subject myself to more public humiliation if it justifies buying more chocolate malt balls.
mama bird notes: