D'oh!

A variety of incidents converged yesterday morning making for a hectic experience trying to get Robby ready for school. He was quite vocal (to say the least) about his disagreeing with our decision that he was recovered enough to return to school. He dawdled getting dressed, couldn't find his coat (which was hung on the hook by the door) and complained about the lunch I packed. The fact that he didn't know what was inside his lunchbox was irrelevant. 

Trying to rush a little boy who was purposely moving at a snails pace, I became flustered. By the time we were in the car, we were running 10 minutes late. I detest being late, and the fact that he had never before been tardy for school only increased my frustrations.

Robby continued with his "I don't want to go to school today" mantra, and I just tuned him out. He finally abandoned his complaining when I stopped responding. Pulling into the parking space in front of the school, I was delighted that the clock read 8:57. We made it with three minutes to spare!

Unfortunately my putting the car in park and directing Robby to gather his lunchbox only reignited his complaints. Not again! I was at my breaking point with his whining about not going to school. I looked at him, firmly instructed him to follow me and stop complaining. His "But Momom" was cut short by my scowl as I grabbed his lunchbox and hand to walk into the school. 

Standing in the foyer of the school, pulling my stubborn little boy behind me, I began to sense that foreboding feeling that I had made a terrible mistake. It took a few moments to register, but soon it became crystal clear: I had driven to the wrong school.

After stopping in my tracks and muttering to myself, I tried to leave the building without being noticed. I quickly ushered Robby back into the car and wanted to crawl into a hole as I sat in the driver's seat. The last thing I wanted was to be seen by a meanie parent!

Without missing a beat and almost gleefully, Robby simply said, "Momom, I tried to tell you that we were at my old school but you wouldn't listen." I apologized for not listening, but then reminded him that his incessant complaining made it difficult. I drove to his new school in near silence, only mumbling to myself about my own stupidity. I ended up checking him into his classroom 15 minutes late. I hated seeing the red tardy check mark on his otherwise perfect calendar! 

Robby promptly explained to his teacher why we were late adding that, in addition to driving him to  the wrong school, I was mean and not showing good listening skills. For good measure, he finished explanation by offering that "Momom also said bad words. She said sh*t a whole bunch of times when we were left the other school."

I guess I won't be hearing from the Mother of the Year committee anytime soon!