This morning, Jonah's jacket was zipped, his lunch was in his backpack, and he was eager to get out to the bus stop, even though it was a little rainy. Getting Jonah on the bus is one of the most important events of every morning. It allows me to save gas by not driving him to school myself. And since I take care of another little boy Isaac's age, it also keeps me from having to herd two 5 year old's into the car for a 2 mile round trip drive that takes no less than 15 minutes.
I was particularly looking forward to Jonah getting on the bus because I hadn't yet had a chance to sit and eat my Bob's Red Mill 5 grain hot cereal with delicious dried blueberries and creamed honey.
I opened the front door, gave my I-love-you's and have-a-good-day's and Jonah was off. He did a gravity defying leap from the front porch over the 2 front steps and landed on his feet with just the tiniest bit too much forward momentum.
In literal slow motion he rocked forward from the jump onto his knees. His hands slowly moved out to stop his molasses-like fall, but it wasn't enough. The rest of his body continued in its trajectory and his little face just kissed the ground, all slow and cartoon-like.
Physically, Jonah was tip top; emotionally, he was a mess. He jumped up and ran into the house, holding back sobs, just as the bus pulled up to the bus stop.
I grabbed a towel, dried him off and hugged him. "You're OK." I reassured him over and over. "The bus is here and you can still make it."
"No I can't," Jonah said. "I'm wet."
I toweled him off again and assured him he was not wet.
"Yes I am," he said, pointing to one dime-sized spot on his right pant leg and a pea-sized spot on his left pant leg.
I started to panic. My voice rose in pitch and volume. "Get on the bus, Jonah, it's right there. You are fine. Get on the bus, get on the bus, for the love of Pete, get on the bus!"
Several parents looked over as I grabbed Jonah's arm, fully prepared to drag him in my bare feet, through puddles and piles of dead leaves, out to the bus. He would not budge.
Finally, becoming increasingly aware of the scene I was creating and recognizing this was a battle I would not win, I went back inside. "Wait in your room until I've finished my cereal," I told Jonah, as calmly as I could, as the kid-filled bus pulled away. "I will drive you to school."
Sensitive, stubborn kid: 1
Mom: Who am I kidding. If I were keeping score, being a mom would just make no sense at all.