Calm and Collected with a Metric Shite Ton of Grapes

I'd like to think I'm calm and collected under pressure, but life history and my husband will both tell you that's not true. Truth be told, I'm bat shit crazy. I walked Shylee to school today because it was her turn to bring in a snack for her class and she wanted to take in grapes. Do you know how many grapes it takes to feed 20 crazed kindergarteners? A metric shit ton.  Anyway I thought it'd be funny, but also cruel to load all the grapes in her backpack and just send her on her way. And trust me, I took physics, I know that strapping 15lbs of grapes to a 30lb child would be hilarious.
 
Of course this would be the day we were running late, I had a meeting in about twenty minutes, and all the paths to the school were buried in six inches of snow.  We were tromping through the snow from the parking lot and I was doing the bossy mom thing, trying to hurry Shylee.  (For the record, unless there are cookies involved, kindergarteners don’t like to go anywhere fast, except in circles but that’s not productive at all.  And I think they LOVE being bossed around by their mothers.) 

I looked up from Shylee and saw the awesome winter wonderland that we were walking through, the kind that only Bavaria can offer.  Then, the school bell rang!  We had maybe a minute to get to the door or we would be locked out and have to go all the way around the campus to get a pass, walk back and get buzzed into the building.  I hear Ft. Knox is empty, so this must be where they have sent their security detail. 

I screamed RUUUUUUUUUUNNNNNN in my special voice I usually reserve for near death mishaps and when Brian tries to take my ice cream.

Probably out of sheer fear Shylee also screamed and took off running like she was being fired at. Ten steps later she tripped and almost ate snow. My mountain lion/G I Jane like instincts took over. I threw her over my shoulder, tucked the bowl of grapes under my arm like I was going to take them all the way to the end zone, and made a mad dash across the walking path, around the corner, and up the stairs for her classroom.  We made it; Shylee covered in snow, me out of breath and messed up hair, but we made it! And so did all the other parents that were standing there, staring at us, with their children, who were also staring at us. 

Turns out the bell was for the middle school, not Shylee’s school.  We were actually ten minutes early.  Yeah, that wasn’t an awkward ten minute wait.  Next time, I’m sending her to school with a note that says, “Dear Teacher, I.O.U. a metric shit ton of grapes.”