The power of a meeting

Recovering from a vacation is tough on everyone. No one wants to get up. No one wants to cook; especially me. No one wants to make lunches. And no one seems to function to a deadline. So we plod through until our vacation clock reverts to our normal hectic clock. In the meantime there is trauma.

Trauma over no milk in the frig. Trauma over the favorite pair of pants not being washed. Trauma over no good snacks in my lunch. Trauma over not being able to sit and get through homework.

"Write just one sentence about your vacation." I try to help, prod, coax. Offer subject suggestions. Do everything but write the sentence myself.

I get, "I CAN'T! I CAN'T! I can't do it!" The wails and cries of my sweetdrop. Complete with flopping about on the floor like a beached perch.

Instead of loosing my mind, (the truth be told, it was lost years ago), I go about my own business. Figuring if there is no one to react against, the wailing will stop. And it does indeed deminish. (I learned this with my oldest....) But it doesn't stop, until I mention walking the darlings to school and talking with the teacher.

When I was young, if my mother mentioned this tact, I would've sat my then little bottom side in a chair and done something to complete the work. But now, my little one starts beaming and packing her backpack for school.

Strange. Am I seen as a defender of all that is not completed? The person who will tell Ms. Wonderful Teacher that my little one should be excused from work because of this reason or that? I didn't understand the mood change and I still don't.

We skipped to school. I kissed one child good bye at the line and then walked the other one in to find Ms. Wonderful.

"My sweetdrop here is having a hard time completing her assignment from last night." I say.

"How far did you get?" Ms. Wonderful checks out the work. "Oh, you just need to write three descriptive sentences. Could you think about your vacation?"

My sweetdrop is all smiles, "OH yes, I was going to write about Everest."

"That's a great idea. You can do it during DEAR (drop everything and read)." Ms. Wonderful is all smiles too.

My sweetdrop is now dancing about the room. Stopping only to kiss me and hug me good bye, as if I'm leaving for a long vacation - alone. Never to return.

Before I leave I mention to Ms. Wonderful that the now charm queen was not so charming 20 minutes ago. She is taken aback. How could this sweet child ever cry, wail, complain, flop around like a fish? I shake my head.

Later in the day I get an email from Ms. Wonderful thanking me for coming in to discuss the homework. That once again all is right in the educational world.

The power of one little meeting. Who knew?

Obviously I didn't. I wonder if a little meeting with Ms. Wonderful will help with picking up their room?