Our re-entry into the Real World, where we have alarm clocks and homework and GOOD GRIEF! YOU HAVEN’T BRUSHED YOUR TEETH YET?!! WE’RE LEAVING IN THREE MINUTES! was pulled off without a hitch.
And when I say without a hitch, I mean that Mama didn’t cry. It’s like I hardly know myself any longer, because I was all geared up to cry. I had my waterproof mascara on and everything. In fact, I think that I actually WANTED to cry. And then I didn’t.
I didn’t because the boy was plum-dang-thrilled to set off to the junior high this morning, and I think I caught his enthusiasm for a new school year, even if it is at the junior stinking high school.
But? For the record? I barely slept last night. It was like I was all worked up with the first day of school jitters, and land sakes! I didn’t have anything to worry about, because it wasn’t me who was in danger of forgetting my locker combination or heading off to science when it wasn’t time to go to science or forgetting to… you know… wipe the mustard off of my face after lunch with a napkin.
Mamas worry about stuff like that where their boys are concerned. And I think I talked to Jesus about ten thousand times before noon today, as I kept begging, “Please let my baby have a fantastic first day as a 6th grader!” After a while, I’m pretty sure I heard Jesus say, “Listen. I’m controlling a hurricane off the coast of Florida here, and I’m getting a smidgen worn out by all your pestering this morning. Because ten thousand prayers? Well, that’s more than even Mother Theresa ever submitted on a single day, let alone before lunchtime! I’ve got your boy’s day under control; things are gonna go just fine. So relax, and let me get back to concentrating on Florida’s coastline here.”
Thank you, Jesus. You blessed our boy with a terrific day.