So I've been planning on starting an ongoing series of themed posts related to the fun and unusual events surrounding getting The Kid into school. I've got a fair amount of material already, but I wasn't going to start until after my Vacanigans series is complete. Which, at my current pace, means I'll be finished talking about my August vacation some time around Halloween.

But something happened today that is just too much fun not to share. I'm going to sneak this little tidbit in now and fill in the earlier parts later.

So this morning I'm at my office, doin' my thang. I get a call at 11:30. It's the nice office lady from The Kid's school. She says he's sick and can I come pick him up? Serendipitously, Pointy Bearded Boss returned to the office mere seconds later. (He's usually out "in the field.") I tell him what's going on, and without a moment's hesitation sends me on my way. We haggle a few moments about whether I should return later on.

Which might be exactly the opposite of what you think. He was trying to get me to take the rest of the day off, I was offering to return as soon as I was able. We resolved that I would call later and we'd talk about it then.

So I get to the school and sign The Kid out at the office. Hmm. He doesn't look sick. He's not acting sick. We're just barely out the front door when he asks me, "Dad, when we get home can I watch my new Halloween cartoon?"

Uh-oh. Doesn't look sick, doesn't act sick, making goof off plans for the rest of the day. This is a bad sign. He's not sick. Well, maybe he's not feeling well, but he sure doesn't look like he needs to go home.

"No, kiddo, we're going to go home and do school stuff."

"But, Dad!"

"No. No, no… you might not be feeling well, but you're not that sick. We're going to go home and do school stuff."

"But, Dad!"

"No 'buts.' This is what we're doing." So my plan was to make the rest of his day just like school, only slightly less fun and without his new friends. With any luck he'll end up thinking, "Maybe school would be more fun after all."

So we got home and he immediately asks for cartoons again. When that doesn't pan out for him, he asks for chocolate.

"Buddy, didn't you just have pizza for lunch?"

"No, we didn't have lunch today, Dad."

"Really? Then how did that pizza sauce get on your chin?"

"Oh. Yeah. Then can I have a snack?"

"Yes, you can have a little snack."

"Some chocolate?"

"No. I'll get you a banana and some milk."

"Aww… okay, Dad."

So we had our snack and sat down at the coffee table to practice writing his name. After about an hour of this almost-as-much-fun-as-the-dentist experience, I let him work on his drawing for a bit. He's been working on a whole series of pictures about our vacation (especially the kind of exciting event I haven't talked about yet.)

They do coloring and drawing in Kindergarten all the time, so I just let him do his own thing while I loafed on the sofa and watched. After about ten minutes, I started thinking, "You know, they have nap time in kindergarten, too."

So in pretty short order we were laying at opposite ends of the sofa and dozing peacefully.

Before I get into the real meat of this post ("And about damn time, too! Christ, this guy can talk endlessly about nothing!"), let me give you a little background on how Girlfriend and I work this whole school thing.

I work a 9-to-5 day job. Girlfriend works overnights. So I get up with The Kid and get him to the bus stop every morning. Girlfriend gets home shortly before we leave and goes straight to bed. She wakes sometime in early afternoon and meets The Kid at the bus stop at 3:00.

So anyway, The Kid and I are happily snoozing on the sofa when a dreadful sound wakes me. I'm not really sure how to describe it. A moan? A wail? Something like that. Imagine the sound a woman might make after accidentally killing a burglar. And then learning that the burglar is in fact her father. And her father is in fact Santa Claus. Yeah, that's a lot like the sound I heard.

I lift my head up, shake the cobwebs away, and glance at the clock. 3:50. Girlfriend stumbles into the living room, pants unbuttoned, raging bedhead, pulling a shoe on her sockless foot while hopping forward. Her face looks just like the sound she just made.

She literally, deliberately, falls to her knees at the end of the sofa where The Kid is napping.

"Oh,thankGodhe'sok! Iwassoworried! Ididn'tmeantooversleeplikethat! Thealarmdidn'tgooffIswear! IwokeupjustnowandIwasterrified! Iwassoafraidofhimstandingatthebusstopwaitingforme! IwassoafraidthatI'dgettothebusstopandnotindhim! Whatifsomeonesnatchedhim?! OhGod,I'msogladhe'sok! Whathappened,didthebusdriverkeephimandcalltheschool? Wheredidyouhavetopickhimup? OhGod,Ifeelsoterrible!"

I know that's difficult to read, but that's exactly how she said it. The short translation is that she overslept by nearly two hours and suffered several panicked minutes with her head full of the knowledge that whatever dreadful things might have happened to our son were all her fault.

She rattled on for several minutes, tears streaming down her cheeks. Eventually she began speaking actual words. "I'm so sorry you had to go get him! Where was he?"

"Umm… we've been home since noon."

"…What?"

"The school sent him home sick. I picked him up at noon. I didn't want to wake you."

"You bastard! Why didn't you tell me that sooner?"

"I just woke up! You weren't making a lot of sense and it took me a moment to figure out what the hell you were talking about."

"Oh. Well… okay then." She was silent for a long time, just kind of staring at the floor. Finally she said, "Can we go shopping? I want a second alarm clock."

We ended up buying two. She now has three alarm clocks, all set for 2:00 p.m.