Cinnamon Slam

This morning as we pulled up at the school gate the fourth little traveller realized he had forgotten something. Was it his lunch? No. Was it his drink bottle? No. Was it his daily folder? No.

He had forgotten the whole freaking lot. He had forgotten his school bag.

One thing. He has one thing to carry to the car in the morning.

He then decided he would prefer to go home with me to collect the school bag rather than walk into school empty handed. “They’ll laugh at me”. I was in a dangerous parenting mix, one part pity, one part responsibility, a dash of lets just go home and eat ice-cream could have been fantastic, but one of us had to be the grown up. He was going to be late if he didn’t go inside.

“No they won’t, I’m sure others have done it, if you don’t go in now you’ll get a tardy” I explained.

The elder travelers have all been victims of “the tardy”. A tick that goes next to your name, a record that is made, a number that will tally. No-one wants to be tardy. No-one wants to explain to their teacher why they were late and then be reminded of it when receiving their report card.

Except the fourth little traveller.

He’s been at the school for two years and has managed to somehow remain blissfully unaware of the concept of being late. This is the child who arrives without his shoes, carrying the remainder of his breakfast in one hand. The child who leisurely steps out of the car and stops to peruse the carpark. Nothing makes this child move any faster than he wants to.

And then I heard the bell.

“Quick, come on, lets run inside, I’ll go home and get your bag – no-one will be any the wiser. Let’s go – before you get a tardy”.

He thought about it. He was still unsure.

“Okay, but what does a tardy look like? Are you sure I don’t want one.”


I watched a clip this morning that had me wondering if there is a such a thing as Mother abuse, I mean, if there’s child abuse, surely this has to go in the register somewhere? For those of you who worry we mothers take too many photos or embarrassing clips of our children, don’t worry, they’ll get us back.

“I tried many things”

Don’t you love the little kick she does as she leaves the room.

Here’s Mum finding out what went down.

And this has to be my favorite.

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