We reassure each other that we’re all normal, it’s just our kids who are bonkers
They’re the place to be in the mornings.
And the afternoons, too.
They’re the local support group, where we can share and connect as we catch our breath.
They’re where all the action happens, as you watch all your friends and neighbors rush down the steps, waving frantically to the bus driver to wait for them as they hold on to their child with one hand, trying to stuff a barely eaten grilled cheese sandwich into the kid’s pocket with the other hand as they explain to him in as calm a voice as they can manage that now is not the time to ask for a mitzvah note.
That’s when you look at your neighbor and think (or say aloud), “Glad it’s not just me!”
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