Going to School

The kids were dragging a bit this morning. When I told them it was time to get going so I could take them to school, I got exactly zero reaction. Rather than ask again, I stated: “Well, I’ve got to run a couple of errands and I’m heading out to the car now.” I grabbed my keys and headed toward the front door.

That had the desired effect, mostly. There’s nothing for free though. In this case, I now had two surly kids on my hands. The boy groused “I don’t want to go to school. I’m not going.” Even though he continued to get ready. I paid him no attention.

The lass had strapped on her backpack and was “ready” to go. I check the temp outside: 25 degrees. I looked down at her and said “Put on a coat kiddo, it’s cold outside.”

She wasn’t having it, but tried to be agreeable and reason with me: “But Dad- look! I’ve got two layers on, see? I don’t need a jacket.” She was pointing to the long sleeve shirt and her red sweater that she had on over it.

Now it was my turn to not have any of it. When I insisted on her putting on a coat, her face fell into a frown and she threw off her backpack. “I don’t want to wear a stupid coat…”

She kept on going, but I tuned her out. The boy, remarkably, remained silent. I walked out the door to the car with him and started it up. As I walked out the door, I heard the lass start crying about something or other. Presumably, her coat was annoying her. Again, I offered no reaction. Didn’t want to know what the trumped up issue was.

I was looking for a scraper for the frost on the windshield when the lass came storming outside. She was dragging her backpack behind her and her coat was wide open. She was defying the cold. Her lips were pursed and her brow furrowed in her fury. “SEE! It’s not even COLD out!” The words poured out of her along with the steam. She stomped towards the car.

She had the look of causing small objects to combust if they got to close. I’m pretty sure she was daring me to say something. Instead, I continued to ignore her tantrum. Unable to find a scraper, I walked over to the driver’s door and hopped in. The slamming door behind me and the loud, deliberate HARRUMPH! from immediately behind me was confirmation enough that the lass had also climbed in. The boy continued to quietly keep to himself. He seemed content to let the lass vent for the both of them.

As I started out the driveway, the lass asked me a question. Their was no fury, only idle curiosity. Just as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

Just another morning on the way to school.