Tomorrow, I’ll Be Better At It Tomorrow.

We were half way to school when Henry Hotdog mentioned that he hoped G could come along today.

My brow creased as my eyes darted in the direction of the rear view mirror. I was confused. Dad? Coming? Where? What was on today?

“Where’s that darling? Where are you hoping to see Daddy?”

Daddy was already sitting at his desk in the office.

“To the thing. The poetry thing”

Welcome to Sunday morning. First day of the week, ten minutes in and we’re already clueless as to what’s going on.

“What poetry thing would that be darling?”

“We’re doing a thing”

“Are you sure its today – I don’t think I know about this?”

Henry Hotdog’s teacher has a blog with all sorts of useful class information. I constantly forget to look at her blog. Yes, I know, the irony hasn’t escaped me.

“Is there an invitation?”

The fourth little traveler nodded proudly “Yep”

“And where is the invitation?”

“In my bag.”

And it was. It had been there all weekend. I’d pulled out the library books, the lunch box, the remains of the paper airplanes. I’d missed the invitation.

What: Poetry
Where: At school
When: Sunday

“Do you know what time it’s on?”

I looked at my hair which was in desperate need of a wash. The jeans I’d had on all weekend seemed to be holding up well, I figured no-one would look at them as my white bra under my black tanktop was probably stealing the show. Thank god I’d brushed my teeth.

We all knew what needed to be done. We needed to ring an organized parent. A parent that was never late, a parent that never forgot. Almost in unison the little travellers said “ring Krista”.

Forty minutes later and I was sitting in a class filled with parents. I watched the mother of much loved child commando roll over a small table to get a better vantage point to video tape her child. I pictured her syncing her phone with her calendar weeks ago with a reminder notice about the poetry reading.

Tomorrow. I’ll be better at it tomorrow.

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