Beep-beep, tap-tap, curse-curse: the unofficial theme song of the school drop-off line. The madness the ensues within a four block radius of any school is overwhelming for this kindergarten mom. No bringing the kids inside, because it’s no longer safe opening up a school to adults. No supervision on the play ground prior to 7:40. And a group of chartreuse sporting traffic controllers that could provide sufficient energy to light up Vegas with the amount of arm wind-milling done in a 20 minute time frame.
So it was raining, I have a toddler in tote too, how bad could the drop-off line be…I thought? And then a SUV turned a two lane road into four for just enough time to cut me off and get into the turning lane. Sweet. Wanker. I get into the loop-de-loop, pull up as far as I could (following the neon windmills’ directions). Stop and put it in park. Unbuckle my precious babe, get her book bag on her, and try to help her open the door to hop out. I look up and all the cars ahead of me are gone and the principal windmill is giving me the “ What are you doing?!?” sign. First instinct: fly her the bird and tend to my baby. Second thought: bad impression for second day of school. “ Babe, get going!! Find a familiar face. Love you!” Slam door from the front seat while strangling myself with seat belt and hightail it to regain air…and composure. (Only to have to slam on my breaks because one kid darted in front of me and another Starbucks jacked-up soccer mom had somewhere to be that was more important than the rest of us…I assume.)
So my question is… What in the hell is it about the drop-off line that makes people lose all common sense let alone common courtesy? I wasn’t discussing Pythagorean theorem or even what pi equals with my kindergartner. I was simply trying to help her open a door that weighs more than her. And do the neon windmills get a bonus if they get a certain number of kids to the curb in their 20 minute shift? And what the hell makes you think that you are so much more important than me or anyone else that you need to swerve around me (risking accident or hitting a poor babe who is so excited to enter a building of learning, kindness, and understanding.)?
Possible Conclusions: put a mini van with push button doors on at least one of the three f*ing school supply lists floating around…right next to “34 glue sticks” and “a case of Crayola (not generic) classic, washable markers”?? Or hand out Xanax to parents within a 10 block radius of school? Or wake up an hour earlier to take toddler to daycare then park 5 blocks away and walk your excited babe up to the school. Watch her play and interact with other kids for just a second. And if you’re really lucky, you might block out the horns, hood tapping, and mental cursing galore—just enough to hear your babe scream from the top of the jungle gym “Love you, Mama!!! Kisses!”
Sign me up for the lack of sleep and the kisses…and the time for a Starbucks stop.
Toot! Toot!