Since I stopped working, I’ve been carpooling with our neighbors. Monday and Wednesday, Toby’s Dad, Chris, takes the kids (Pete, Kaylee, and Toby) to Somersfield in the mornings. I do it Tuesday and Thursday and we switch Fridays. This means some mornings all I have to do is wake Pete up, make sure he’s fed, his teeth are brushed, he’s dressed, and is carrying his lunch as he walks out the door.
Paul and I were laughing the other day, that when we say good-bye to him in the morning, it seems like he’s much older.
“Good-bye, Pete! Have a nice day!” I call, as he walks out the door.
“Have a nice day, Mama! He’ll yell back, as he makes his way to Jones Lane.
It seems like he’s walking to school or going to catch the bus, when really he’s just walking next door to meet his carpool.
Today, Paul hadn’t left yet and also interjected into the good-bye scene.
“Bye, little man. I love you!”
“I love you too, Dada” Pete called.
Not wanting to be unfair, he added, “I love you, Mama!”
“Tell Ellie I love her, okay?” he yelled again – definitively giving away his age. I’m not sure that at eight, when he’s actually catching the bus that he’ll be desperate to make sure his little sister knows that he loves her.
