The bus being my spouse’s Red Toyota Tundra. Saint that he is, HE takes the kids to preschool (Livy Lou) and class (some subset of the big kids on a given day), but it takes BOTH of us to get our progeny IN the truck on time.
According to poet Gary Snyder in The Practice of the Wild: Essays, “It is as hard to get the children herded into the carpool and down the road to the bus as it it is to chant sutras in the Buddha-hall on a cold morning.”
No kidding. THIS morning included carrying a distraught and wailing Olivia down the stairs (she thought it was Saturday and didn’t “plan” to go to school) for breakfast, participating in two wardrobe changes and a debate about where the bow on her socks is supposed to be (front or back of the ankle), and enduring a screaming fit during hair-brushing. In between rounds with Olivia, I argued with Reiley about her attire (a size XL men’s t-shirt from her dad’s closet and MY cotton-free running socks…and yes, she changed into one of her own t-shirts and left my socks!). To top off the morning, waking the resident grumpy teenager – Quentin – fell to me. Yeah!
Parker was the only bright spot this morning. He was up first, ate the breakfast his dad prepared for him without complaint, dressed and brushed his teeth, made his own lunch (!), took out the recycling the FIRST time I asked, and beat his dad to the truck. Gotta LOVE him.