My wife’s got a new gig. Unfortunately, it requires her to travel quite a bit. I’m not complaining, it’s all good and it’s been great for the family. I only bring it up to note that when she’s away (like last night) I sleep with my bedroom door open. In case I need to hear anything in the middle of the night. You know, like the pitter-patter of tiny feet that aren’t sleeping.
Prime example — this morning. In the cloud of disorientation that is the early morning around Casa de Ed I heard footsteps. Footsteps before the alarm. Generally, this is not a good thing. I was also able to determine with my super-spidey-senses that these footsteps were not of the pitter-patter variety.
I thought that Maura might have come home though I quickly realized she’s gone for one more day. A quick glance at the clock and I knew.
I had forgotten to set the alarm clock.
Having learned our lessons, neither of us wishing to repeat the past, we talked through the wall and from under the covers. “Give me ten minutes.”
“I’ll wait in the car,” she replied.
I woke the kids with an apology and a sense of urgency. “Get up, kids and pee on the runway! There’s a sea plane coming in!” In what seemed the same motion I tossed uniforms, bananas and book bags at them funneling their sleepy bodies toward the door. I’m not sure Zia had on shoes.
Zoë looked back as she stepped outside and stated, almost asking, “I love you, Dad?”
It took nine minutes.
They may have even made it to school on time.
Albeit without lunches.