If you’re having one of those days, read this and I guarantee you’ll feel better.
Or at the very least you’ll have a little chuckle.
When it was time for the kids to get ready for the school bus this morning, for once R2 was ready first. Usually he’s the slow one that still needs to brush his teeth when R1 is ready to walk out the door.
R2 walked out the door and Jason was fiddling with the strap on R1’s snowpants strap. One strap had gotten all twisted around and Jason was determined to make it right.
I kept biting my tongue. I wanted to say, “I don’t think it matters” or, “you’re running out of time” or, “the bus will be here soon,” but I thought if I said anything it would only exasperate my already irritated husband.
I suppose I should have just grabbed R1’s coat and told Jason I would finish getting him ready, but I was kind of frozen in place. I kept thinking that Jason would realize he was wasting time on the strap and just forget it.
But it wasn’t until we heard R2 scream from outside that we all sort of snapped back to reality. We could hear the bus coming so I told Jason to open the door so the bus driver could see that we were there and would be right out. Jason said she would see R2 waiting and know she had to wait for R1.
Except when I opened the door, it was clear that R2’s scream wasn’t actually because the bus was coming (which it was), it was because he was stuck in snow up to his chest. No matter how many times we tell him not to get covered in snow before school starts, he can’t help it. The first place he goes is the snow pile. This morning he toppled off the pile and was crying for help from his poor pajama clad dad.
R1 somehow made it out the door as the bus pulled up, though he seemed to be moving in slow motion, and Jason was stomping around the entrance way, picking up mitts and boots and tripping over his feet and cursing a blue streak. At this point I couldn’t have helped even if I wanted to. Boots and mitts were flying all over the place.
Jason somehow got his boots on and stepped into the deep front yard snow, then he jumped back out, his boots now full of snow, ripped the boots off, then jumped back into the snow towards R2. He stomped through the yard, picked him up, carried him back to the steps, then out the gate and down the driveway toward the waiting bus. I was watching it all from the front door, kind of in a detached sense of disbelief.
The bus drove off, Jason gathered up his discarded boots, stormed into the house, yelled something unintelligible, and jumped into (I’m assuming) a very hot shower. R3 and I spent a few minutes staring at each other, then I giggled for awhile, and thankfully Jason was calmed down by the time he got out of the shower.
Jason said I could tell this story so long as I pointed out that I sat by and watched the whole scene play out but refused to help. It’s true, I didn’t help. I maintain that I was still half asleep from a pretty bad night and I was shocked into inaction by my disbelief at Jason’s obsession with a snowpants strap.
And now we’ve both learned a valuable lesson.
R1 should have learned that he needs to say, “Don’t worry daddy, it’s just a dumb strap!” and R2 should have learned to stay out of the snow, but both of them have probably already forgotten this morning’s drama. So the lessons fall to us.
Jason has learned that if something takes longer than 30 seconds so close to bus time, it’s not worth it. And I’ve learned that Jason isn’t going to ask for help when he’s frustrated so I should just tell him I’m taking over.
I’ve also learned that the image of my husband charging through the deep snow in his socks and pajamas is hilarious and it will undoubtedly be hilarious for a long, long time.
Before he left for work this morning, Jason said, “I bet you were standing at the door taking pictures of me for your blog, eh?”
If only, Jason, if only.