I’m ready!
When my wife is away, leaving me in charge of the house, I consider it a great accomplishment when the school bus pulls up in the morning, grinds to halt, and my ten year old son steps on board to start his day. I have done my job. I got him to school. Getting myself to work is all that remains. And if I fail to do that, well, who’s going to notice or care? Yes, but fail to get your kid off to school just once and you are a <voiceover/echo> DELINQUENT PARENT.
So, it’s a nice feeling after I manage to get us both out of bed on time, fed, lunches packed, to walk him out to the bus stop and watch as the bright yellow school bus winds its way up the hill. How satisfying to hear the throaty engine as it comes around the bend. Like a Pavlovian response, I equate the sound of the school bus approaching with my second cup of hot coffee waiting for me back at home in the quiet kitchen.
Things didn’t go quite so smoothly today, though. This morning, just as I caught sight of the bus, I heard my son, who was standing a few feet away with his friends, say, “Oh, noooo.” I looked over and asked him what was wrong. His friends had just reminded him. He suddenly remembered himself. He looked me in the eye and said the words, “Today is picture day.”
Picture day? Picture day! Today was the day that the entire school lined up and, class by class, one by one, filed in front of a photographer to have their pictures taken. Today was also the day they took the “class picture” with all of the children from a particular class posing for a picture with their teacher. Picture day. I would have known this, had I bothered to open my son’s daily folder and seen the reminder notice in 50 point font letters stating, PICTURE DAY TOMORROW.
I looked at Conor as the school bus crept closer. His hair was standing straight up on one side. I began to wonder if he slept under the car last night. But that wasn’t the worst of it. For the first time, I looked down to see how he was dressed. He was wearing a pair of camouflage cargo pants and a blue and yellow “Whatever Dude” SpongeBob SquarePants t-shirt. I couldn’t find an exact photo of this t-shirt on line, but if you are childless and clueless about SpongeBob SquarePants you can get a pretty good idea of the official clothing apparel for the TV cartoon series here.
It was mostly mothers at the bus stop this morning. They were all looking at us as we panicked. I was contrite. I stated, almost apologetically, for reasons I can’t explain, “His mother’s away.” They shook their heads and said, “Ahh.” Which meant, “Ahh, dad’s in charge.” As if that explained everything. What pissed me off was today it did explain everything.
I grabbed Conor by the arm and said, “let’s go home.” Pretty quickly, I managed to find some decent clothes for him to wear. While he changed, I soaked a washcloth and blotted his head until his hair cried Uncle. We hopped in the car and got to school just behind his bus.
I’m happy to report that my son made it to school on time (just behind the bus) and dressed appropriately for school picture day. I went back home and had that second cup of coffee. As I savored a sip of the bitter brew, I smugly congratulated myself for narrowly averting a stereotypical dad disaster. I have no idea how the school pictures will come out. For all I know, Conor had his eyes closed or was frowning or developed gravity-defying hair again. Hey, at least he wasn’t wearing that SpongeBob t-shirt. Whatever Dude!
9:15:26 PM  Stories
|
|
