My children's school is, literally, a 2-minute drive from our house. I pull up in the carpool lane, they jump out, and I drive off again - 6 to 7 minutes max from start to finish.
Mornings at my house consist of waking Dane, waking Daelyn, throwing a load of laundry in the washing machine, waking Dane, checking on Deanna, popping into our bathroom to say hello to Don, waking Dane, making breakfast, waking Dane, preparing lunches, nagging Dane to finish dressing and walk the dog . . . , I've gotten into the habit of running into my bathroom at the last minute, throwing regular clothes on the top of my body, and tearing back out again, leaving pajamas on the bottom half. I don't have time to bathe until the children are gone, and I don't really like to put clean clothes on a dirty body, so I keep the jammies on until there's time for my bath.
On my way home from dropping the children at school this morning, I realized I had neglected to tell Dane he was riding home with someone else today. Grandpa has a doctor's appointment and I'm not sure we'll be home in time to get the children, so I made other arrangements. Everyone is coming home with someone different, but they should all end up here in close proximity to each other, hopefully, because Deanna's the only one with a key to the house.
I thought about calling the school and leaving the message, but there's no guarantee that they will always get those messages. I thought that if I passed another car on it's way to school, that I'd flag them down and ask any Middle School kids in it to give Dane the message. But what if I didn't pass any other cars. Or what if Dane thought it was a joke and didn't believe the person. I made a quick decision, checked the clock, and decided that it was still early enough that the Middle School boys would be standing around outside the door. I could get back in the carpool line and holler out the window at Dane.
I turned around and headed back for the school but noticed as I approached that nobody was standing outside the Middle School doors where the boys are required to gather before school. All their stuff was there, blocking the doorway so you could hardly get in, but no boys.
I parked, jumped out of the car, and ran in the door. I passed one young man and asked where they were.
"Setting up chairs in the cafeteria," he said. Oh, boy. Here we go. So, in my pajama bottoms, I rounded the corner from the hallway into the cafeteria, hoping Dane would be close to that door. Nope. Of course not. He was the boy the furthest from me. And, just then, everyone started filing out the door past me. As each boy passed, he smiled, most spoke, and EACH ONE discreetly averted their eyes downward at my pajama bottoms. No one commented, no funny expressions crossed their faces, just a quick glance.
It took me several minutes to get Dane's attention and tell him about his ride situation this afternoon. In the meantime, more boys were milling past me, with the ever-present "sneaky" glance at my pajama bottoms. As I finished with Dane and walked back out to my car, I couldn't help but laugh. Polite boys we're raising here. Not a single one of them mentioned my pajamas, nor laughed, smiled, or commented about my choice of clothing. But not a single one of them missed noticing, either.
My secret's out now. I wear pajamas to bed and don't change out of them first thing in the morning. In fact, some days I stay in pajama bottoms half the day. They're comfortable. And, if I get busy cleaning or cooking or doing laundry, I don't always want to take the time to get my bath and fully dress. I do normally, though, attempt to dress before leaving the house for things other than the drive to school.
Just so you know.
