It is my duty to pick up the kids from school at the end of the day. School is probably an overstatement, as they are 1.5 and 3.5, but it is a school and there is a curriculum and I sometimes get to giggle when I call it a school, so that's what we say. Tee hee.
The benefit of picking up the kids is that I get to drive straight to work in the morning, skipping most of the bad traffic, and tuning into my choice of radio stations - usually it's anyone who is talking, as I am not interested in music that early in the morning.
The downside of being the picker-upper is that I get the kids at the end of a long day and it's sometimes complete and utter chaos. I'm usually so busy chasing my two kids (Smiley knows how to run now) in two different directions and I'm so focused on each of their bodies barreling down the hall that it took me a while to notice that the halls are full of other parents engaged in the same craziness. There was an audible sigh of relief when I realized it wasn't just my kids. Phew.
I would like to note here that my kids are very well behaved. Ahem, for other people. I get glowing reports of their manners and the please-and-thank-yous that escape their lips at all the expected moments. One of my favorites from about a year ago was when Turbo reportedly said the following after music class, "Thank you, Miss Ashley. Thank you for playing the piano."
Who are these kids, and may I please spend some time with them?
Yesterday, after wrangling a kicking Smiley into her car seat - complete with crocodile tears I might add, a shining example on her cheeks that I am one mean mama for not letting her run into traffic - and after begging Turbo to get into his car seat, and then resorting to "I'm going to count to 3... 1, 2, thr--"... we finally settle in for the 5-minute drive back home. Once in their seats, they are little angels. Night and day. Heaven and hell.
At home I unbuckled Smiley and she leapt into my open arms with the sweet and gooey greeting I'd been longing for. And so I kissed her and cooed at her and blew air softly onto her sweet little face. She blew back and we giggled together. Ah, bliss.
We repeated this sentimental exchange several times as we approached the other side of the car to unleash, I mean, unbuckle, her brother. As Turbo climbed out of the chair, he stood on the edge of the car and watched Smiley and me for about a milisecond before blowing a raspberry and spitting on me and getting his sister to do the same. It was a raspberry spit, so fairly benign, but the juices flew all the same.
What had begun as sweet mom-and-daughter play time ended in mom getting showered, spit in my eye thankyouverymuch, and Smiley and Turbo guffawing hysterically as if they'd invented humor.
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