For mothers everywhere....
3:30 at the local school and it’s raining like autumn in Vancouver. In front of me, two hundred Audis and no parking. I pull my trusty Chevy in behind them and prepare to match up with my offspring.
It’s a funny thing about kids. They can do gymnastics three times a week, soccer on Saturday morning and cruise the mall for hours. But don’t ever ask them to walk home from school. Some can’t even make it as far as the car.
“What took you so long?” Daughter number one waits until the car pulls directly in front of the entrance before venturing a foot out from the overhang.
“Precious. It is pouring rain. I have been doing the complete Dallas Cowboys Cheerleading routine at the side of the road trying to get your attention. I think the least you could do is walk the distance to the car."
“You want me to WALK? In THESE shoes? You’ve got to be kidding. I might get them wet.” The door slams shut and we start to inch along the circular drive. “Besides, I’m tired. I’ve been in school all day, you know.”
“How come you can cruise the whole of Oakville Town Centre with your friends, but can’t make it twenty feet to the car?”
I can’t help it. Maybe the drenching has made my brain soggy. Lecture 27 spews forth of its own accord.
“When *I* was young, we walked to school. Yup, two miles, in the freezing cold, through four foot snow drifts-“
“Uphill both ways.” She interjects.
“-uphill both ways,” I finish. I think she’s heard this one before. “AND another thing.” It gets worse. “About those shoes…when I was young, we didn’t have fancy shoes like that. No sir, we made do with sneakers, and – by golly – we were grateful. We even wore them until they had holes in them.”
“You want me to wear shoes with holes in them?” she asks, excited.
“Don’t change the subject.”
“What IS the subject?”
“Genetics. Natural selection as it relates to the modern world. How kids today should have been born with wheels instead of feet.”
“MOM!” She is jubilant. “You bought me roller-blades?”