No carpool line.
I didn’t fully appreciate the time suckage that is the carpool line until my kids started VBS last week. I showed up 10 minutes early only to line up and sit.
And wait.
And wait.
And then merge with another long line of cars.
And wait.
I had Audrey with me and after 10 minutes of sitting and waiting, she asked, “Mommy, can you drive?”
“I can’t,” I said, “There’s a car in front of us.”
She considered that, and then asked, “Please?”
“No, I can’t drive, but thank you for using your good manners.”
After several more minutes, we finally crawled ahead a few car lengths, and I said, “There! We drove!”
She considered that, and then asked, “Mommy, can you drive far?”
Ξ June 26th, 2009 | → 3 Comments | ∇ Kids |
But the picture sat on my camera for too long…
Chloe lost three teeth last weekend, and I am enjoying the resulting lisp. I can’t help but giggle a little each time she talks to me.
I’m not being mean about it. I’m just enjoying the cuteness.
Because lately when I look at her, I marvel at how BIG she is.
At six and a half years old, I see so few signs of the baby that once was, that I revel in the reminders that she’s still little. That she’s still my baby.
Even if she gets a little more adult with every tooth lost.
Pattern blocks are one of those activities that really show the differences between my kids’ temperaments.
Luke quietly concentrates on putting each piece exactly in its space.
Chloe keeps up a running monologue about what she’s doing and makes up stories behind everything.
She calls this one “Four Fox Faces Kissing a Square.”
The biggest difference between the two is how they react when they finish.
Chloe basks in my approval…
Luke cheers for himself…
Then jumps up and down…
Then, inexplicably, roars like a lion.
Audrey, you’ll note, is not pictured. We had to put her down for her nap when we started because her favorite thing to do is knock everyone else’s patterns down.
And unfortunately, Chloe and Luke have the exact same reaction to that.
And it starts with screaming and ends with crying.
It’s a two-hour drive between the house we own in Mississippi and the house we’re renting in Baton Rouge.
And that’s if there’s no construction, traffic or potty stops. And there always is.
All three.
So I found myself the other day an hour into our drive, with the desperate need to pee.
And I fought it for as long as I could, but when I just couldn’t hold it any longer we all pulled over.
And once I said I had to go to the bathroom?
Suddenly the kids did, too.
So there I was, sweet relief just a stall away, helping kids who didn’t really need to go to the bathroom, and trying not to pee my pants.
Standing in a stall with the very creatures whose births weakened my bladder control, watching them dither and play around with the toilet paper, and thinking maybe I’m the one who needed to be wearing the pull-up.
On the bright side, that was our last drive to move stuff. Now we only need to go back to Mississippi to show the house to possible renters.
And since the only people who have shown interest have either been obvious scams or have had both bad credit and a criminal record?
I’m thinking I won’t be facing a desperate search for potty stops any time soon.
