Lucky Sister

B oy will Mommy be surprised to see me home so early today! Usually after taking my time packing up I join about ten girls for a rather lengthy gab-fest of a walk home. My mother claims to be shocked at how long a supposed ten-minute walk home from school took; then I catch her eye note her smile and marvel at how my mother understands remembers and appreciates the social mores of teens even when she definitely and desperately could have used my help with the little ones.

Four-year-old Nachy is the cutest kid in the world but his behavior is a bit um erratic. He can be the sweetest most helpful boy most of the time but his self-control flies right out the window when he starts to get tired.

Then two-year-old Rickie picks up on the tension and morphs from an adorable independent “I do it myself” toddler into a clingy whiney 28-pound baby and my mother’s two arms seem woefully inadequate. As soon as I enter the house my mother gives me an exhausted relieved grin as I laughingly fend off the attack of the munchkins.

We work together until my father Mr. Patience personified rushes in at six and immediately takes over with Nachy. My mother then focuses on the now-delighted Rickie getting her ready for bed with lots of cuddles and stories of her own and I’m free to start my homework or chat with my friends over the phone often both. When my parents finally have the kids in shluffy-land we sit down together to share our day over supper.