Poke

I was very displeased that my daughter missed the bus and I needed to drive her to school this morning. . . again. She has been missing the bus a lot lately and driving her to school is inconvenient.


As I slipped on my shoes and trudged toward the garage, still dressed in my red pajamas, my mom commented to me, "It's after 7:00. Is Anne going to make it to the bus on time?"


It is a very rare occasion that the school bus comes after 7:00. It is almost always exactly on time. How my mother has missed this fact over the past year is beyond me, but her question seemed genuine.


I grumbled as I tromped toward the door, "No, Mom. I have to drive her to school again. This is what Anne does in the morning. She misses the bus so I have to drive her to school in my pajamas.”

nose embedded in the pages

In the car, I did not speak. I just wanted to get the job done and get back home to my warm drink, computer and breakfast. Anne took her cue to open her American Literature book and begin reading. 2 and a half miles down the road, my mood was slightly improved at being almost able to head homeward. Anne's nose was still embedded in the pages as we turned into the school parking lot behind a long line of other parents dropping off their children.


“Okay, girlie. Time to take off your seat belt,” I instructed.


Anne's hand moved instantly as she continued to read. CLICK The seat belt was removed.

“Wow! That was fast,” I thought. “I didn't even need to tell her twice. She just did what I said.” A mischievous thought began to creep over me. “I wonder. . . . ”


“Anne, pat your head,” I tested. The same hand that had unbuckled her seat belt moved slowly upward. It was the only part of her body that moved. Anne's eyes remained glued to the page she was reading as her hand patted her head.


“Eureka!” I thought.


I paused only a moment before commanding, “Anne, pull your ear."


Anne's same hand began again to creep upward as her eyes stayed on the page. But my playful instructions had begun to filter through her consciousness by this time. As her hand reached the level of my elbow, awareness was there. It unexpectedly changed direction to shoot at my ribs.


Elbow clamping against my side to protect my belly from Anne's signature POKE, I protested loudly, “HEY!”

Anne laughed as she grabbed up her things to go, “You didn't say, 'Simon Says.'”