Rescue 911

You know those calls you get from your kids' school?  Well, it always happens to me during the one trip I make at work to the bathroom, or on the random day that I actually have a meeting, or when my phone is dead.

Today was no different.  I was in the bathroom.

And I got a call about an incident at school with my son.  The last call was a bonked head and just make sure you ice it and he doesn't pass out and slip into a coma when he gets home please.

This one was about the fact that he had "spilled" maple syrup all over himself during lunch.  Yeah right.  Maple syrup doesn't attack you by accident, and I've been my son's mother long enough to know I need quotes around the word spilled. 

Apparently, it was all over and a sticky mess.  And could I please bring a change of clothes?

I left work, drove across town to my house (passing the school on my way), got him a change of clothes (am I really doing this?), and took it to school.  After finally locating him, they called him down to the office and...he comes around the corner looking miraculously just as clean as when he left the house this morning (keeping in mind there are different degrees of clean).

"Where's the maple syrup emergency, son?"

He pointed to a patch on his shorts, about, oh, I guess an inch high by 2 inches wide.  "It's super sticky Mom."

This kid.  He could go weeks without bathing and not think twice.  After months of taking his own showers, we realized that he hadn't been using soap regularly.  Just when he remembered.  He gets off the bus most days with remnants of his lunch smeared across his face and he found gum in his hair this summer one day...but there was no gum in the house.  And hadn't been for days.

So suddenly he can't function with a bite-size syrup spot on his shorts?  I could have licked the spot and the syrup would have been completely cleaned up, just like that.

The lesson HE learned is this:  Do.  Not.  Call.  Me.  Unless it's an EMERGENCY.  Maple syrup on your clothes does not qualify as one.  Go to the little boys' room, find the sink (it's that square white thing that water comes out of), wet a towel with that water (go ahead, just turn that little knob there, that's it), and rub the stain away.

The lesson I learned:  just because it's a call from school doesn't mean it's an emergency. 

The only payoff was the fact that the office ladies were all standing around (as well as the principal and vice principal) and when they asked me what I needed, I announced "well, apparently there was a maple syrup explosion and I'm here to help."  Their hysterical laughter boosted my spirits; their immediate recognition of the offending child lowered them again.   

And so, this is my life.

However, just know that, from now on, we will be packing on French Toast stick days.  For sure.


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