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We’re Both Still Growing Up

A Dad and Daughter Growing Up Together

There are eight traffic lights separating the short driveway in front of our home and our grade school’s two separate parent drop-off zones. Pushing back from the gate by 7:46 A.M. affords us the time to justmiss a few of them.

We’ve got to be reversing out of the driveway by 7:46 each morning, with lunches, and flutes, and books to read in tow, to make sure I’m not walking out of school 30 minutes later with a pink tardy slip. Any later, say, 7:49 A.M. or 7:52 A.M. or even 7:47 A.M. and a justmissed traffic light flipping from green to yellow to red might result in the 5th grader being late for school, and this parent having to walk her in, hand her over, and walk back to the car alone with a pink slip of shame.

But it was that one traffic light! That one slow-ass-mofo in front of me! Those geese crossing the street!

No excuses, dad. 7:46 A.M. or earlier, or else.

When one kid decides at 7:45:38 A.M. that she really needs to bring her box of 64 Crayolas into school but really needs a piece of tape to hold down the lid so all five dozen hues of green, orange, yellow, brown, blue and red don’t spill into her backpack but she can’t find the roll of tape because it’s not where it should be because she was (probably) the last one to use it so it of course didn’t get put back in its proper place so that when it is needed to secure the lid of a crayon box at 7:45:38 A.M. so we can be backing out of the driveway by 7:46 A.M. it of course is nowhere to be found. And the clock ticks on humorlessly, with no color at all.

And then I yelled.

And then she slammed down the box of 64, the lid flapping up violently like the head of an airline passenger who feels the first rattle of out-of-nowhere turbulence.

And then she slammed open the front door.

And then she stormed into the car.

And then I proceeded to unload on her for most of the 13 minute drive to our school’s parent drop-off zone, reminding her of our 7:46 A.M. deadline, of the need to think ahead for things like lace-up shoes and boxes of 64 crayons. I decided on a dime to levy a consequence, to take away her after school outdoor time, an especially harsh repercussion of her actions on this day considering her new electric Razor scooter had just arrived and would be fully charged by the time she tossed her backpack down on the entry way bench at 4:10 P.M.

I drop the Mouse off first. And then I ask the Bear if I was too harsh. She said I was, a little, not the consequence, necessarily, but everything else.

I thought about this all day, a sunny 67 degree day that was made for scootering around a small neighborhood after a day of 2nd grade drudgery, of coloring with school issued off-brand crayons, of animal habitats and extreme weather lesson plans, of being trapped indoors for all but 15 minutes.

I picked up the Mouse first. And I gave her a big, loving hug before pulling away from the first parent pick-up zone I visit every afternoon. I apologized for getting so angry with her 8 hours prior and asked her if we can each try to not get so worked up over such things as crayons boxes, pieces of tape, and 30 seconds on either side of any single minute, 7:46 A.M. or otherwise. She agreed and hugged me back. We talked about her day, about tornadoes and hurricanes and 10 feet of water in hotel lobbies. It was an eventful Tuesday.

And then with a smile, she ran in through the very door she slammed open to run out, tossed her backpack onto the entry way bench at 4:10 P.M., unplugged her new scooter, strapped on her helmet, and was off.

We’re both still growing up. We never stop growing up, not really, whether we’re 7, 11, 36 or 39, or any number before, in between or after.

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  1. I need to remind myself not to get worked up daily. Glad I’m not alone.

  2. Wow, I love this Jeff. It’s like you’re watching my house at 8:42am every Monday through Friday, except the crayons are Hot Wheels. And on the occasions that I get upset at the kids over this trivial time issue, I always feel like a jerk for knowing that it’s really on me and I should make the time 8:30, knowing it’ll be 8:37 in the car and out by 8:42. Then again, it’s preschool, so they’ll be OK eitherway.

  3. The lecture in the car on the way to school. I’m doing that far too often these days! It’s not how I want my kids to remember me.

  4. Very true and a great read after a tough morning with my school age kid. I also yelled quite a bit about whatever things were holding him up that morning and more. I wish I hadn’t and I am looking forward to smoothing it out when the bus arrives this afternoon.

  5. Get your motor running…
    Glad you both worked it out, recognized the errors of your ways, and she was able to go on the scooter.
    I blame crayola.

  6. I like this– we have a similar situation,except we walk to the bus stop which is just across the street. We are usually early, but sometimes, sometimes, we get really close to missing the bus. And one time we did miss it.

    Fortunately, I still have time to hurry him back into the house to the back door, into the car, and drive to school. And assuming no traffic, we will make it in time.

    But I know those worries about blowing up about small things that MIGHT have repercussions down the road.

    Thanks for sharing.

  7. You totally nailed it! I have a lot of mornings like this with my three year old. I’ve promised her the moon to get her out the door, and then totally lost it when we are late. Thank you for the reminder.

  8. Very welcome, Courtney! Thanks for reading!

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