A funny little anecdote concerning daily life here in the Van Dyk household. This gem epitomized the oft-occuring miscommunications between Aidan and myself:
This morning, as every morning, Aidan and I tag-teamed Caelah out the door to her bus. It seems that we barely make it each day. Things are never as glossy as an orange juice add. Sometimes her hair is left to hang into her face. Sometimes she is only partly done up, or buttons go in the wrong holes. Usually she is wearing outfits of her own creation that would disturb me if I had time to notice. But we DO manage to get her out the door. After today, we can add a new kink in the pre-bus prep. process to the list of kinks that continue to keep us out of the running for Parents of the Year.
Jo: "Hon? Can you grab something for Caelah's lunch?" (I hollered from the front door, as I tried to find my shoes in the heaping laundery basket that serves to hold all of our footwear at the moment).
Aidan: "'kay." [Silence. Rummage. Rummage.] "What should I put in here?"
Jo: "There are crackers up in the top cupboard. Just grab a handful."
[Silence. Doors opening.]
Aidan: "These nice ones?"
Jo: (Perplexed, but too harried to think about his use of the term "nice" to describe Ritz crackers.) "Yeah. Sure."
Aidan: "How many? 5?"
Jo: "Nah. A good handful."
That's all. Seemingly normal. All checks go. Out the door. Onto the bus. Back in the door to do a post-whirlwind tidy. . . Discovery: One ravaged box of Peek Freans "NICE" sugar cookies open on the counter. Yes, Caelah now had a fist full of these high fat, high sugar, definite no-no qualifiers for the "healthy nutrition break" treats in her bag. Boy was she going to be the envy of the class this snacktime.
12 o'clock. Off the bus. In the door. Open up the lunch bag. . . nothing but crumbs.
