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Noah’s ride

So Noah calls me while I’m on the road, “I need a ride to my friend’s house.” My reply, “Noah, I need to make a phoen call and call you right back.” Hang up. Noah to Mom, “Dad is busy and told me to see if my friend can come get me.” Dad calls his next stop to find out he is too late to apply anyway and will have to make it tomorrow. Dad calls home. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Hmm. Dad thinks, “Noah must be on the phone talking to his friend and unaware of how to answer call waiting.” Reminder to self: Teach the kids about call waiting. Dad calls line 2. Tommy answers, “Hello?” Dad, “Tommy are you also on line 1?” T, “Yeah. I saw you call.” Dad, “So why didn’t you answer?” Tommy, “Because I can’t have two calls on the same line at the same time.” Dad explains call waiting and asks that Tommy tell Noah that I’ll pick him up shortly.

nota bene: When I called back a few minutes later Tommy properly used call waiting! Progress!

So I ask Noah, “Are you ready to go?” He says, “All ready!” and heads out. Amy cheerfully chimes, “Baby is all ready!” and starts to whimper by the door when no one immediately comes to let her out. I decide to take her, in diaper only, along to drop Noah off. We arrive at his friend’s house and since I think it would be improper to drop and run I get Amy out and walk with Noah to the front door. I confirm his pickup time and Amy and I return to the car. Once in her seat she arches her back, turns on the tears and screams for Noah. I can’t force her into the seat to save my life. All good bribes are absent from the car so I close the door and go to the driver’s seat to turn on the a/c. Then I get in the backseat with her and sit to wait her out. Just as she calms and is ready to be buckled, the boys come running out.

As I frantically buckle the toddler, Noah opens the door and asks, “Can you take us down to the store to buy cups so we can sell snow cones?” I’m flabbergasted. Normally I’d do this in a heartbeat. However, I can’t really afford the cups but am embarassed to say so instead I jump to “I have stuff I need to be doing at the house” and “the baby is unclothed and will have another tantrum” “sorry guys.” Truth be known, I was probably just slightly above unconsciously abashed to think that the 8 year old boys would make more money today than I will.

Once home I turn off the car and go to release Amy from her car seat. Usually she is helpful and almost leaping from the car. Instead her right arm points limply toward the windshield, a single tear streaks down her face, and she whimpers, “Noooah…”

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