Well it had to happen eventually: the dreaded pink slip; awarded to those who can’t quite manage to get to school by 8.15.
The Johnsons woke up at 7.30 thanks to Percy who cried (intermittently) from 4.30 to 6.30. And because we were too bleary-eyed to get ready, quickly, we were three minutes late to school. I’d made my peace with the blemish on my (thus far) spotless record and began the perp walk to the office. To collect the piece of paper confirming my status as a derelict mother.
I saw another mother and her little guy slip in through the back door. Bypassing the office. Without collecting their pink slip. The hall monitor in me wanted to point my finger and yell ‘no fair!’ The rule is clear: if you’re late, go to the office for a nonverbal slap on the wrist. Do not try to sneak your kid in as though you weren’t late at all.
And I wonder why my oldest is such a stickler for (certain) rules.
After the late slip incident, I sped home to collect the professor who was flying to the land of frozen hot chocolate and counterfeit accessories. I’d endured twenty plus minutes of waiting for ill-timed stoplights and dealing with morning rush hour. Finally I was able to get off the wretched Bow Trail for the final few minutes of driving. When I approached the nearby elementary school, the one that’s a block from my house and starts at 8.45, the crossing guards were out. And they ordered me to stop.
I don’t know if crossing guards everywhere do this, but here in Calgary, at the Alex Ferguson school, they do some crazy crossing guard dance that makes me laugh out loud every single time I witness it. You can tell they take their job very seriously. And I can thoroughly imagine my oldest on guard duty. (And loving it.)
As I waited for the VIP second grader to move through the crosswalk, I eased up on the gas a little, causing the car-van to inch forward. The crossing guard with the cute purple hat affixed me with such a steely stare, I got a little scared. Sheesh, I moved an inch. And I’m a car-length away from the crosswalk.
After dropping off the professor at the airport a whopping 70 minutes before his flight was scheduled to depart, I headed home with my youngest sidekicks. Southbound traffic was severely backed up thanks to an earlier accident. I watched as the Lincoln Town Car in front of me got off at the McKnight Boulevard exit……just so he could re-enter Deerfoot Trail farther down. Bypassing twenty (patiently-waiting) cars in the process.
‘No fair!’ my inner crossing guard yelled.
* Credit goes to Jo or Leo for the term ‘fun police’.