“I forgot my hat,” said Miss7 as we headed to the car to begin the school run. She dumped her bag and raced back up to the house.
I wasn’t surprised. So far this morning she’d forgotten to get out of bed, to eat breakfast and to get dressed.
By the time she arrived back at the car Miss11, Master9 and I were all buckled up and waiting. Time was ticking. I was due at work in less than ten minutes.
But if I thought I was cutting it fine already Miss7 had a surprise for me.
She strolled to the car, put her hand on the handle and froze.
“My homework!” she squawked, and she was gone again.
“Come back!” I yelled after her, but she either didn’t hear or thought I was bellowing at some other child who was running away from me.
“I’ll go get her!” Master9 and Miss11 shouted in unison and two doors flung open.
“Noooo! Stop!” That was all I needed, to have them run away and be three children short of leaving for work. “Don’t you step foot outside this car!”
That sorted, I leaned heavily on the horn in the hope Tracey would hear it inside and realize I was in need of assistance. I tried to convey she may need to incorporate a butterfly net, dog collar or a cattle prod.
A long minute later, Miss7 reappeared at the gate with a hat on her head and a homework folder tucked under her arm. Things were looking up.
“My bag!” she shrieked and ran back through the gate.
To be honest, running away from me was probably a good idea at this point.
“You haven’t!” I shouted. “It’s here!” I beeped another interpretive tune out on my horn. Then I beat my hands on the steering wheel before attempting to reef it off the steering column. “IT’S HEEEEERE!!”
I should have saved my breath. And the battery.
By now I was inventing cuss words while Miss11 and Master9 were nearly wetting themselves laughing in the backseat. They thought I was play acting.
Finally, Miss7 reappeared at the gate and raced down to the car.
Miss7 reappeared at the gate and then stopped to wave at her little sisters on the balcony.
“Bye, bye,” she cooed and several seconds were spent with her and Miss2 and Miss4 grinning and waving at each other.
I beeped the horn again. It may have sounded more like a hoooooooooooooooooooooonk to the neighbours but at least this time it managed to startle Miss7 enough that she glanced in our direction and I was able to run through a series of hand signals meant to convey if she didn’t come down and get her ass in the car this very instant I was going to put her up for adoption.
She sauntered over, opened the back door and stuck her head in the car. I had high hopes of the rest of her following, and would love to have suggested this to her, but by now my throat was so choked with cusses and threats I couldn’t get any identifiable words out.
“Have you seen my…oh there it is,” Miss7 said pleasantly after she’d spotted her bag in the back seat. “Can we go now, Daddy? I hate getting to school late.”
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It really does make a difference.
YEP… this is the story of my life! On more than one occasion we have had to drop them off at school, rush to the shop & buy a damned hat, and deliver it back to the school, because it was nowhere to be found. (until, of course, we had already purchased another hat.)
I have a rule, if you walk out the front you aren’t allowed back in. Anything that was forgotten stays where it is, if that means sitting in the undercover area at play time or going without lunch, too bad. They learn very quickly 😉
So you won’t let your kids go back to get their forgotten lunch? Have you never forgot something?
Ooh! Clever rule! Astaaria! I shall be using that one!
Lol!! We quite literally live across the road from school (I can see Miss 5’s classroom from my front window) which I’m sure is the only thing preventing drastic lateness – I dread the thought of moving anywhere else and having to be far more organised!
They won’t starve from missing one lunch 🙂 They will remember to make sure they’ve got it next time though
Also, I couldn’t do this.