tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16882710.post-32637230647867924692009-02-13T10:31:00.000-08:002009-02-13T14:06:59.409-08:002009-02-13T14:06:59.409-08:00Yesterday morning was a little busier then normal around here while the kids were getting ready for school. Brandon was leaving to go back to Eastern Washington for work, Valentine's were being stuffed into backpacks for class "Friendship" parties. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(Can't call it Valentine's Day party..might offend someone. School rules.)</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> and I had to be dressed and ready, because I was to</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;"> the</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: large;">"Special Person"</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;"> </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">in all three classrooms for </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large;">"Special Person Day" </span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: medium;">In amongst all the chaos I make an announcement <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:medium;">to all of my darling children</span>.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> "Don't forget your snacks for your parties and your Valentine's."</span></span><div><br /></div><div>As we are backing out of the driveway I look back to see that Ellie is not holding her 2 dozen cookies. I lovingly say with my lips pursed tightly, "Ellie. Where are your cookies?"</div><div> </div><div>Of course she left them on the counter. No big deal I ran in gabbed them. Race back to the car and as I'm opening the door I hear Braydon reading Ellie the riot act.<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> "Ellie it's your responsibility to remember those cookies. Your classmates and teacher are depending on you to bring what you said you were going to bring. And if we are late because YOU forgot your cookies, you owe me a dollar."</span></div><div><br /></div><div>Ellie has the deer in the headlight look as he rambles on about how could she for get the cookies they are right there by the door...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:large;">BLAH BLAH. </span></div><div><br /></div><div>I kindly tell him, he is<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;"> not</span> the parent and it's no big deal...<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">r</span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">elax.</span></div><div><br /></div><div>I drop them off at school and as I'm driving away, not even 500 yards from the school, My phone rings. "Hey mom, it's me your son. <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:small;">(he says that every time he calls like I have no idea who it is.)</span></div><div> <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size:x-large;">I forgot my Valentine's."</span></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div class="blogger-post-footer"><img width='1' height='1' src='//blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/16882710-3263723064786792469?l=www.whydothesekidskeepcallingmemom.com'/></div>LindaJhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08687579496289661550lindahjohnson@hotmail.com10