New occupation

It occurs to me on this fall Tuesday evening, as I take The Brain to soccer practice, pick up Pinky from band practice, take her to the store to buy supplies for a school project, drop her off at home, pick up my son from soccer practice, and ferry him home, (with my yellow fuel light blinking at me), that I am no longer just a mom, or a wife, or a teacher. 

I'm a chauffeur.

In a red sedan.

Victory

Every morning at 6:30, there is a custodian at Pinky's school who sets out two traffic cones with a string tied between them. He sets them across both lanes of traffic at the end of the street in the parking lot so that traffic can't continue into the next parking area. The purpose is to aide the flow of traffic for morning drop-off. I get it. I was a school crossing guard for two years. I complained for two years about people not following procedure.  Also, I'm the mom who complains about people in the middle school drop-off lane.

But at 6:30 in the morning, the only cars in the lot are teachers and band students. That's not really considered traffic. There's no flow to be interrupted. There's a low chance of a traffic accident. So for him to put the cones out that early and make us drive the long way around feels a little like he's just out to be spiteful. (Although, in truth, he's just doing his job.)

This morning, I let Pinky drive to school with her learner's permit. After we pulled into the parking lot, she noticed that the cones weren't out yet. With triumph in her voice she said, "Ha! I made it here before the man did!"

Smarty Pants

Pinky was telling one of her friends about the college campus and kept saying, "usivernity". Now she says, "Obviously, I'm not ready to go to college."

Genius

The Brain is grounded. Because he has missing assignments, he isn't allowed to use any electronic devices. He is clearly upset by this. 

In the car on the way home from school, his big brain goes into overdrive.

The Brain: If I designed a different power source for my electronics so that they didn't run on electricity, would I still be grounded from them?

Me: That would never happen. They're electronic. 

The Brain: But what if I did? What if I made them squirrel-powered or something? Would I still be grounded?

Me: Well, in that case, we would have to give you credit for creativity.

The Brain: So, I wouldn't be grounded anymore?

Me: I guess not.

The Brain: Of course, I'd have to use something that wouldn't die, rot, or reproduce.

Hmm. Genius.

Generation Gap

Pinky asked me why the Ding Dongs that Chief Johnson eats on The Closer are wrapped in foil. It hadn't occurred to me that Pinky had never eaten a foil-wrapped Ding Dong.

New school, new experience

From the first week of school this year:

The Brain: Thanks for making my locker pretty . . . and clean.

Me: Do you think you can keep it clean?

The Brain: The word "clean" isn't in my vocabulary.

Even though I just used it.

Little Big Man

I began waking the Brain early this week in preparation for middle school. Poor guy really likes to sleep in. As I was sitting on the edge of his bed, I noticed something.

Me: Those are some hairy legs you've got there, Son.

The Brain: Yep.

Me: Got any hair on your chest?

The Brain: Nope.

Me: Under your nose?

The Brain: Nope.

Me: Huh.

The Brain: But I do have hair in places I don't want to talk about.

Me: [shaking head and stifling a giggle] I didn't need to know that, Son.