"Mom. . . what are you doing here?"
Well, ain't that the question of the century?? My fifteen year old daughter continued, "You're not supposed to pick me up until five."
Okay. Having no other purpose in life but to transport my children to their various activities, I looked for options to fill the next hour.
I was able to retrieve Hey Nineteen and the trailer of lawn equipment from around the corner. . .my insurance agent made me take him off of my policy, so he can't use my Mombus anymore. That took up twenty minutes or so.
Then we returned to the school and awaited the end of practice.
During my down-time, I returned four phone calls, chatted with the instructor, let the dog out of the car to pee, killed the ants that were crawling down the back of my panties and picked up some trash to balance out the bad karma.
Finally, they were finished. . . I saw my daughter and several of her friends walking out of the supply room.
(Cue: "Flight of the Valkyries) As they traversed the parking lot, I noted that none of the crowd was "peeling off" to go to their own vehicles. In fact, they were all looking at me. . . and smiling!
I turned my back on them, avoiding eye contact. . .then turned around again. They were still coming. There were no other cars between them and me. . .what the heck???
My mind was racing. . .I envisioned my Mombus, landscape trailer in tow, navigating the neighborhood for the next two hours while I delivered the rapscallions to their lairs. I raised my eyebrows at my daughter and wondered if she detected the ever-so-slight flaring of the nostrils.
"Um, sweetie, do all of these people live near us??"
"Oh, Mom, it's okay. Their parents are all coming to pick them up. . ."
I started to breathe a sigh of relief, but then: ". . .from our house at seven. We need to practice - Y'all squeeze in!! Thanks, Mom."
The horror. . . the horror. . .
11 months ago