A couple of weeks ago, the kids had a half day of school. I was supposed to pick them up at the bus stop, but did the math wrong in my head and as I pulled into the bus stop, I got a sinking feeling in my stomach to see no other parents around. I called the school on the off chance that the bus hadn’t left yet- the bus is a little inconsistent- but was told that the bus had left on time. And my kid and his friend were sitting in the school office; when kids don’t get picked up at the bus stop, they are returned to the school. This was all horrifying and embarrassing for me.
Anyhow, I went to school and got the kids, feeling not so great about myself. I had one job and I messed it up.
I asked the six year old if he had been worried, and he said, “No. I just thought nice things. Like flowers, and cake and my family… things that make me happy.”
What wisdom there is in that… I suppose he knew that there wasn’t a lot he could do, so he decided to spend his time thinking about happy things.
There is something sweet and poetic about his happy things: flowers, cake, and family.
Speaking of which- some haikus from life lately:
Fingers in the pie
Imprints of her impatience
Craters from waiters.
Purple petals poke
Through the warm earth, early
Unexpected blooms
In his plush red vest
Hopping robin on my lawn.
A sentry for spring.
Petals drift like snow-
Fluffy flakes, not biting hail-
All the snow we’ll get.