Kristina made it out the door at 6:10 for her ride. (Yep! This year I started up a car pool. Using my noodle this time. If all goes well I'll only be driving one week every 3 weeks! Aaaaaa....)
Now on to Kaitlyn..... I love my daughter, without a doubt, but I went down stairs at 6:13 to see if she was close to being ready. No light under the door.... oh no. Knocking on the door brought an indignant, "What?!" The indignant reply she got, "Kaitlyn! Its 6:13!" Suddenly the voice changes and I hear, "Your kidding!" She's off and running. All sorts of noises are coming from her room, NOW! By the time she gets done I'm ready (robe on!) to run out the door, for the car. So off we go and arrive before the bus does. 3 boys stand at the bus stop like statues not talking or interacting with each at all. How strange. Where are all the girls? After dropping Kaitlyn off and she takes her place in the bus stop statue line I pass another parent racing to the bus stop. Its nice to know I'm not the only one starting the day off right!
4 comments:
HAHAHA!! To funny! I got my kid to the bus stop in time but found out I should have put a different jacket on her, but she will be fine we were only standing there afew minutes and the day should warm up, but I still felt bad. And she went to bed just fine last night, she was asleep before 9! YIPPY!
Robe!? What if you are in a wreck? That reminds me of the time I was 14 and snuck out of the house. My mom got up and found me gone, and came to downtown Keaney, Nebraska to find me cruising with a girl of questionable reputation. She made her pull over and she whipped me with a belt in front of all my friends and lines of honking cars. Guess what she was wearing? A long yellow ROBE.
Thanks for the memory.
;0(
I deleted my previous response. When I looked at it this a.m. it didn't come across as intended. So now that I've actually slept for a night.......
Remind me sometime to tell you about the two guys who walk their dogs up here! OMG! Believe me, my wearing a robe to the bus stop is nothing.
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