Kindergarten is over and the yellow bus that beckoned at 8:12 each morning has been parked for the summer. There is no longer a pressing reason to leave on time.
Except, perhaps, my temper.
If it's true that no good deed goes unpunished, it may also be true that no frustrated tirade by persons over the age of 12 will ever be understood as having redeeming grounds.
That was me this morning, in the driver's seat, a half-hour after we SHOULD have left the house. I was lecturing the kids on how disappointed I was in the screaming, whining, repetitive demands for one. thing. after. another. when we should have been getting ready for the long day ahead.
They sat stonefaced and angry in their carseats as I backed out of the carport.
Candy for breakfast ... one more television program ... stop at the store for Silly Bandz ... apple cider doughnuts.
I am going to drop you off at the sitter's house and go back home and put all your stuff in the trash.
You are not grateful.
You are not happy with what you have.
All you want is more.
As they sit there, now quiet, with tears streaming down their faces I feel guilty.
The "YOU-ARE-SO-LUCKY ... THERE-ARE-KIDS-WHO-HAVE-NOTHING" rant that is so popular with parents prone to overindulgence.
Parents just like me, who, after the outburst -- no matter how late they are already -- steer the car to the apple farm to get coffee ... and cider ... and two doughnuts.
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