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No excuse for a late school run  HERSELF
explained that she is fed up with my excuses. If the boys are late for
school again this term I will have to clean the oven!
This is the worst job in the house and I never ever do it.
She sent us off an hour early warning us that she would know if we had
dallied on the way.
OK, so we were late once when we stopped to watch a mother duck leading
the ducklings across the pond.
Another time we saw a house on fire and had a nose.
Generally we are only late if an adventure occurs. That is what the school
run should be — an exciting start to the morning.
When I was little going to school was the best part of the day.
We would see a dead cat and poke it with a stick. We would climb walls
and run through puddles. We would arrive wide-awake for lesson time.
Nowadays kids expect to be driven and we modern parents like idiot chauffeurs
do it.
This morning we agreed that no matter what we would not be late. Even
if a UFO landed or Elvis appeared at the roundabout. Nothing would delay
us.
So, off we set and as we drove along I noticed my boys looking at some
girls.
As any dad will tell you this is a milestone in a man’s life. It
is like a right of passage from childhood to adulthood.
I wonder what kind of women will attract them?
Will they be led by appearance? Will they look for a woman with a laugh
and smile like their mother?
I didn’t want to get involved in their conversation but as we were
stuck in traffic nosiness got the better of me.
“So what girls are you looking at then?” I asked.
They both looked puzzled.
“Skinny ones are no good,” says I. “They always whine
on about their figure.”
Son number one shook his head at me as he does now more often than he
used to.
“Don’t be fooled by looks boys, always go for what’s
available!” says I.
They ignored me and carried on staring at a group of girls crowded together.
I had a quick look. Some pretty plain-looking girls without make-up or
glamour.
“So which one takes your interest then?” says I trying not
to sound like a dirty old man.
Son number one broke a moment’s silence: “The one lying on
the floor!”
I looked out and there in the middle of them a girl lay flat out.
Other drivers just carried on. We parked the car and went over to them.
The other girls parted and we found the child lying on the floor crying.
She had slipped on the ice and banged her head.
A small trickle of blood ran from her nose.
I asked if she was OK and she became hysterical. What do you do in these
situations?
I couldn’t cuddle her, pick her up or examine her. In this day and
age the slightest sign of physical contact can lead to a police cell.
The boys helped her up.
I offered her my phone and she rang home. I heard concern in her mother’s
voice as I got parts of the conversation.
“A man helped me and his sons. No, no no I am OK.”
I went on to the phone and explained what had happened.
I would offer the girl a lift home but how would I feel if someone got
my daughter into their car?
I worried about them thinking that I was some sort of paedophile who drives
around abducting young girls.
I told her mother my name, my phone number and my car registration.
I then got one of the other girls to take a photo of me with the car.
As a final touch I suggested they look at my website.
How this must have looked to passers-by I do not know. The other girls
were full of thanks and admiration for my sons and I.
“Get some phone numbers!” I whispered to son number one who
was horrified that I was trying to pimp him out.
One of the girls schoolmates got in with us for the journey. I think this
made her feel safe.
I have never driven so carefully. I was worried about crashing and waking
up from a coma to find an irate Turkish family on one side of the bed
and the police on the other side.
Of course me mammy would be the first one to get me I have no doubt shouting:
“What did I tell you about abducting young girls at bus stops y’eejit!”
We drove along as carefully as I could. My boys looked out the window
and the girls hugged each other.
Of course every traffic light was red, every zebra crossing had people
walking on it and the council was digging up every road.
The girl’s mother remained on the phone the whole time. When we
arrived at the house the reunion was like Mandela walking from prison.
Aunties, uncles, cousins, the neighbour, the postman and the family dog
were all waiting.
I dropped the girl off and apologised to the mother for being late.
I then spent 10 minutes declining offers of whiskey, petrol money, cake,
clothes and the use of the family villa.
The boys got to school late!
I was confident that herself would understand but wasn’t sure how
to tell her.
At dinner time she asked us how the school run went.
The boys and I looked at each other as co-conspirators none daring to
say we were late.
“See leaving early really does work!” she proudly announced.
Son number one cracked and told her the truth. She smiled and explained
that number two had already told her!
She thanked them for their honesty. Ah well, I suppose I had better make
a start on the oven. |
