Tuesday, February 5, 2013

Morning Mayhem

Enjoyed watching the Superbowl with our friends, the Maxwells.  Ali made these adorable football rice krispie treats.

I'm a morning person.  Always have been.  To me, mornings signify a new beginning.  A chance to erase the mistakes from the prior day and start afresh.  I wake up positive.  hopeful.  optomistic.  I think that's where I can get into trouble.  I'm so hopeful about the day that when the morning unravels it can quickly send me into a tailspin.     

This morning started off bright.  Breakfast was pleasant.  Little boys got themselves ready for school with little commotion (no fights about wearing a tank top in February or going without underwear to school).  Things were looking good.

I packed up the boys into our minivan and headed off to school.  The carpool line was particularly long this morning.  Minivan after minivan lined the perimeter of the school with mommy drivers looking particularly impatient and annoyed.

It was my turn for drop off.  I pulled up to the spot at the front of the line, right next to the school, and directly next to the principal who was directing traffic.  That's when Cooper announced his show and tell item was missing.  I knew the show and tell item made it into the car, but somehow in the transit to school it went missing.

Cooper became frantic and began to desperately search our car.  I did a quick scan for the item but found nothing.  I started to sweat.  I could feel the eyes of the principal and every single mother in the carpool line zeroing in on me.  I'm sure all the drivers behind me had their hands perched on their horns ready to blast out their emotions.  I shot a nervous smile to the principal and put up a "one moment" finger.

Then, I peered back into the car and noticed Cooper had hurdled himself into our trunk desperately searching for his much coveted show and tell item.

I thought I was going to lose it. 

I put the car in park and walked outside the car and opened the trunk.  Cooper jumped out of the trunk (still without his missing item).  I'm sure the drivers behind me let out a collective gasp.  The principal shot me a startled look and said, "Oh, there's a child in your trunk?"  I tried to shoot off a brief explanation, but by that time she (and about a million other cars behind me) just wanted me to move.

As I pulled away from the school, I realized how quickly my morning optimism can wane.  




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