Thursday, May 7, 2009

It must be the heat

Somehow the kids gave me the slip afterschool. I showed up to our usual meeting spot and they weren't there; and when I looked up, I saw Ryan's backpack across the playground, headed towards the place I park.

I was on the way to the van but stopped to talk to Audrey's teacher, who had crossing guard duty. I asked about the eggs they were incubating, because although the first grade does this every year, every year we never know who will have duds and who will have chicks. I told her about the talk I'd had with Audrey before they started the project. I know my girl well enough to realize that the second she saw cute fuzzy baby chicks, she'd be wanting to bring one home, and I had to nip that in the bud. "Sweetie," I told her, "when the eggs hatch, the chicks will be very, very cute. You may not bring one home. You and I," I pointed to each of us, "are the only chicks in this house." Her teacher laughed and said that Audrey had relayed the story to her already. We looked toward my van, and spotted Audrey headed back to me, a purpose to her step.

I figured she was going to come rush me along, but once she got there it was "Ryan grabbed my arm,", Ryan this, Ryan that...and once in the car, Ryan yelps and I look over my shoulder as he starts in with "She hit me when she went by with a water bottle," and the chorus of 'he said, she said' began.

I sighed and told them that neither one of them will be allowed to sit shotgun and once we got home, Ryan was to go to my room and Audrey was to go to their room and they would have to chill until I came to get them.

We got home, and I got busy with the dogs, of course, I needed the bathroom. Ryan was laying on my bed, but he's got a mild cold or allergies, so I figured he was just seeking refuge. After checking him out, I went into the kitchen, and realized Audrey was nowhere to be found.

"Where's Audrey?" I asked Nolan. I got no response. (That's it, I'm writing an article--Headphones: Blessing and Curse.)

Suddenly, she appears behind me, a little tear-streaked and contrite. "I was in my room, Mommy, you said I had to go there."

Let me preface the next part by stating that the distance from the school to my house is five minutes, tops. We'd been home for maybe ten.

And in that small nugget of time, I'd completely forgotten they were in trouble and that I'd told them to go to their opposite corners. Doh!

I can't believe I couldn't remember what I'd just said. No wonder my oldest tends to look at me like I'm insane. Because although I can't remember what I say, I know that he (and his siblings) always do. And they call me on it.

Ordinarily, I'd blame it on fatigue, or distraction, or their misinterpretation of what I meant.

But today, I'm blaming it on the's 104 today.

It will be 104 until October, which means I'm gonna have to start writing things down.

Because if I don't, I'll be building a coop in the backyard next Tuesday.

1 comment:

Bridgett said...

My dear daughter loves animals. Because of this, we have somehow ended up with three very smelly bunny goddesses (they're sisters and I swear they think they're divas), and a teddy bear hamster named Copper.

So yea, she'd be one of the kids wanting to bring a chick home too. No doubt in my mind.

I haven't started forgetting things I've told the kids...YET! But I forget everything else, so I suspect that's just around the corner. :)