Picking kids up from school can be a pleasure. They talk, they listen, a little (they act like their listening, nodding their head appropriately to my ramblings, until I notice the little white cords in their ears. They are plugged into their own world, and politely smiling as if they hear everything. Why do we buy them I-tunes/pods; whatever.)
This is probably my funniest moment EVER, in picking up G-jr high.
I get to his school. He is hanging with a group of boys, the girls near by giggling. I am always thinking I wish that I could come in disguise and just watch, it is so cute. But I drive the MAV, four wheelin, sleek mommy vehicle.
He crosses the street.
[details will be important here]
he smiles, nods a bit of an acknowledgment in the direction of his peers.
stay cool, dude.
He gets into the car. From his smile I can tell he was enjoying whatever banter he happened to be engaged in only moments ago.
Still floating, he looks at me, suddenly the smile disappears. I wonder if I have spinach on my teeth, or something....has to be out of place.
He is looking at me like I really have a problem.
"What G?" I say.
Me: How was your day?
[I start my drive South, toward the younger kids school.]
Him: pretty good.
And then the freaking out begins.
Him: AAAAUUUUUGGGGGG, I have dog poop on my shoe.
You would think a swarm of bees was attacking him.
Me, starting to laugh, and helping him to move backpack and coat away from the scene of the crime, while continuing to drive.
The SMELL, it is becoming unbearable.
BUT, hey is still aware of his peers. I start to pull over. He is yelling at me, "NOT HERE MOM".
I immediately know why. The girls are just behind us, opposite side of the street.
"I HAVE to pull over, the smell is awful!"
I pull over. He gets out, begins to wipe the poop off his shoe doing some kind of jig I have never seen. Wiping, gagging, [me laughing, rolling the windows down].
He is really having a horrible time. His shoes have tiny crevices.
I tell him to use some leafs. He is dancing, grabs some crunchy leaves.
DOESNT WORK, I tell him, "not those, use the green ones."
"MOM YOU SHOULD BE DOING THIS"
"I DIDN"T STEP IN IT."
Rolling down more windows. "Mom, not yours."
Oh, I see, hide me from the girls, who are now horizontal to the car.
He is still trying to wipe it on the grass. I can just see him falling in the poop that he has gotten off, so I slowly begin to drive forward. JUST A BIT, and really for his benefit. RIGHT, except I am laughing so hard because he is hopping to keep up with me, all while trying to hide this situation from the girl group.
He wants to know if I have any water. NO.
He wants to know if I have any baby wipes. again NO
I give him a straw, he starts to clean out each crevice.
Please mom, a rag, a napkin.
Not being fast food people I have no "extra" napkins in the car.
So he gets busy with the straw. WHERE IS MY CAMERA?
The Elementary kids begin to walk past, staring.
I say to him when a little guy comes past, "there's a shirt!" (Totally kidding, and actually if he had said it he would have been reprimanded, "be nice to the little kids.")
But me, I can't seem to help myself. Uncontrollable laughing, another kid comes by, "Hey G. Another shirt coming..."
He looks at me, looks at the kid, looks at his straw, which is now ready for (spit wad war just doesn't sound very nice, but pretty much that describes it.)
If I weren't laughing I would responsibly say, knock it off. But laughing doesn't help to enforce my wisdom and maturity as I try to say, don't, not cool buddy. He brings the straw up to his mouth. I just know what he is going to do as he eyes the little kid.
Instead of blowing, because he is desperately trying to survive this incident, he nearly sucks on the straw, yes the dog excrement weapon. His new weapon of choice, except that he forgot to blow. The look on his face is priceless.
Oh my, that was so close.
He is laughing, I am laughing, except that my floor mat is still stinking up my car.
After G gets control of the situation, himself, and the clean up, he plops in the car.
I give him the M and M bag to cover his shoe, seal it shut.
He looks at me and says. "I thought it was you."
"The smell." He says, "I thought it was you. I thought you farted."
Oh my little big G. Thank you.
Second to this, the M and M's that I poured out to bag up his shoe. He begins to throw them out the window. Yellow ones give you cancer, he says, plopping a blue on in his mouth.
"Hey, you remember that you just used those hands to clean up dog poop."
He smells them, plopps another blue one in, "Yep."
Chucking the orange ones at the girls, he says those have some dye or other...idk. then the green, he starts to pull out the green. I'm Scared! I know what the green ones meant when I was a teenager. What is he thinking? These ones, mom, I definitely don't need these ones, as he tosses one in the direction of the crossing guard. Ping, it hits the sign. The sign. He is a teenager, wierd. And sometimes I don't want to know what he knows.
So, How was your day?
step in anything today?
'Will you, um, marry me?' I haven't seen you in weeks! You don't look happy or excited about the prospect of our marriage! You're asking me to give up my - my freedom, my joie de vivre for an institution that fails as often as it succeeds? And why should I marry you anyway? I mean, why do you wanna marry me? Besides some bourgeois desire to fulfill an ideal that society embeds in us from an early age to promote a consumer capitalist agenda?