If I were a circus act, I'd be the clown juggling different size bowling pins and other assortments of bowling balls.
I was juggling the school schedule this morning, ensuring everyone arrived on time. Then, the job was to get to a looping audio recording for a television show, get lunch for everyone, and finally end up here, where you read this tale.*
As well as through the morning routine of loading my elementary and middle school children in the car peacefully so they don't try to kill one another, there is also the task of dealing with spirits trying to communicate while you're doing several things at once. I must ignore them; otherwise, if I don't, they'll take up all my time, and nothing gets done. They're rude and intrusive; they don't say hello or at least call me by name. Instead, they barge in with what they want, and they want it now. I ignore it while yelling at my oldest to ensure her youngest sister is fastened into her car chair. I get attitude in return, but she does it anyway. She'll realize the consequence of her actions later this week when she asks to stay the weekend at her friend's house, and I tell her no and make her do chores all weekend instead. The two younger ones go first, eager to get away from their older siblings. One is the boy, the other the older girl. They are constantly at each other's throats but will team up against their two older sisters if they feel they're being harassed. On the way to drop off the two older girls, they fail at trying to sneak on lip gloss and eyeliner. Really? They get it taken away, and on top of that, they are forced to give me a kiss before they leave the car. When that happens, I ensure the windows are all rolled down so it's in full view of the whole school. Now, for the little one. Rounding the bend to her school, I hear someone in the car call her name. 'Ivory, Ivory, Ivory,'
"Dad, did you call me?" She squeals from her car seat behind me.
"No baby, I didn't," I lied; she wouldn't understand. Then, she starts repeating her own name in the same tone of the voice that called it. 'Ivory, Ivory, Ivory,'
These fucking spirits weren't getting their way, so to fuck with me, they started calling my daughter's name. I drop her off at her classroom, where we part with a hug, smooch on her forehead, and she's on her way. I let them have it as soon as I returned to my car, calling them every name in the book in Hawaiian. They crossed the line. Talking to me is one thing, but don't ever bother my family. Even though the windows were open, the air got sucked out of the car with such suddenness that I nearly passed out. They went screaming and complaining because of my warning of capturing them in a blessed container and casting them out to sea or burying them so deep in the ground that it would be eons before they were ever found. Folks, that's just one day in my life. Can you imagine what it's like every day?
Awesome
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