Sticky Situations And The End Of School

Small Town’s movie theater puts on a series of summer matinees for the kids, because they enjoy providing the children with something to do once a week in June, July and August.  They also know that EXTRA CONCESSION SALES ALL SUMMER MEANS CHRISTMAS BONUSES COME DECEMBER.  That theater is thinking ahead.  I used to buy the strip of tickets, which covers all three months’ worth of weekly shows, for the boy, when he was a little tot, and we always had so much fun going together.  And then the boy grew up, and he decided that his teenage self had far better things to do with his days of freedom than watch an animated film with his mama.

Cue the years when we didn’t do the summer movie matinees.  Those afternoon movies were something we simply forgot about.

And then Thing 2 came along, and FINALLY!  The kid can now sit still long enough to appreciate a good bag of popcorn, an air-conditioned theater, and a decent cartoon.  So, for the first time since the boy hit seventh grade, I bought strips of tickets for the summer.

Today was a movie matinee day.

And it poured rain today.

The type of rain that comes out of the sky like no one has witnessed since Noah was here.

Thing 2 and I were in the library when the storm struck.  We tried to wait it out, because our car was on the far side of the library’s parking lot, but that horrendous downpour showed absolutely zero inclination to ease up, so we ran.  I held hands with my six year old and tried to protect our stack of library books, as we ran like racehorses for our car.  Clearly, the time I spent with the hot rollers in my bathroom this morning was a complete waste.  We were soaked clear through to the bone, but we still made plans to hit the movie theater.

As did every!! single!! child!! in Small Town.  Actually, I suspect that all of the other children’s MOTHERS made plans for them to see the show today, because RAIN, RAIN, GO AWAY, THESE KIDS STUCK INSIDE MAKE ME CRAY-CRAY.

Or something like that.

Let me tell you, that theater was pushing the fire codes on seating today, and… to my utter delight… the little girl behind us dropped her kid pack of popcorn AND her soda.  Since the theater slopes downward, toward the screen, gravity took over, and her Dr. Pepper ran beneath my feet.

There ain’t nothin’ so wonderful as having your feet stick in a fresh soda spill for ninety-four entire minutes, while you watch an animated flick about squirrels reclaiming a city park during the wicked mayor’s construction scheme to destroy it.  Everywhere I put my feet was another spot that was dripping Dr. Pepper.  The obvious solution would have been to just move and change seats, but that wasn’t possible, as EVERY SINGLE SEAT was taken.  We had a zero percent chance of finding anywhere else to park ourselves, if we dared to stand up.

The noise level before the show started was the equivalent of a poorly-run chicken farm, boasting thirty-six thousand laying hens.  I texted Hubs about the catastrophe behind me.  I told him my feet were stuck to the floor, that my eardrums would never recover from the noise, and to PLEASE COME TRADE PLACES WITH ME!  I encouraged him to be the PARENT ON DUTY this afternoon.

Hubs texted me back and said, “Hush.  I just closed the blinds in my office and tipped my comfy desk chair back.  I’m going to have a little nap right here, in all this quiet.”

And THAT’S why Hubs is having cold cereal for supper tonight.


I am nearly three entire weeks late posting the pictures, but I really DID take some snapshots of my boys on their last day of school, because OF COURSE I DID.

These little stinkers finished up kindergarten and the eleventh grade.

I don’t know if I’ve ever been so emotional over a last day of school before, because this fall… when they return to school… the boy will be a senior.

It will be his last year of school.

I can’t even deal.

And kindergarten is over… for the second time in our lives.

I can’t even deal there, either, because there is something completely magical about kindergarten.  Those little six-year-olds are so bright-eyed and full of wonder and love.  Helping with kindergarten centers every single week was a complete joy in my life, as I moved about the classroom, helping kids with their letters and numbers and sentences.

Kindergarten is EXTREMELY magical.

And, at our school, part of that magic has to be because of the teacher my boys had.  They both had Mrs. F.  The boy had her when HE was six, and so did Thing 2.  She is the gentlest, kindest, most compassionate girl we know.  She is soft-spoken and radiates kindness and love.  She handles everything, from a fistfight on the playground to hurt feelings to puke on the floor, with grace and mercy and wisdom.

Basically, she’s the wind beneath my wings, and we all love her.

It was hard for us to accept the fact that she was going to pass Thing 2 to the first grade, because that means that we are done in her classroom.  We tried to convince her that we should repeat kindergarten, but she wouldn’t even consider it.  I don’t know whether Thing 2 is just that smart… or whether she was secretly pouring wine in the teachers’ lounge because she had survived the school year with him.

Anyway… we adore this girl.

Here she is with the boy, on HIS last day of kindergarten, when she was eight months pregnant with her second baby.  That second baby is about to turn eleven now, which doesn’t even seem possible, because it was just yesterday I was bringing her decaf lattes when I showed up at the school for kindergarten centers in 2007.


… yes.

It would appear that my boys wore the same shirt on their last days of kindergarten.  What are the odds, eleven years later, that Thing 2 had on the boy’s old sleeveless shirt?!

Now, if y’all will just hold me and counsel me and pat me on the head with some thoughtful “There, theres,” as I gear myself up to HANDLE MY CHILD’S SENIOR YEAR OF HIGH SCHOOL WITHOUT TURNING INTO A TRAIN WRECK, I’d appreciate it.

And if you can offer up some prayers for Thing 2’s first grade teacher, Mrs. R, who is a beloved friend of mine who really thinks she can handle our second son with ease and barely any wine, that would be fantastic.  We’re planning to come in hot to the first grade and set her world on fire!  I’m also planning to consistently bring her lattes this fall, when I come for first grade centers, to keep that darling girl fully caffeinated.

Happy Wednesday, y’all.


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