Sam loves to play with his cousin Samantha. Monday morning they were making plans on the phone around 10:30 am. Sam got off the phone and got busy packing his backpack with all manner of things that he could not leave home without. Pooh, Tigger, partially assembled Legos, race cars; all things pertinent to successful play. From start to finish, this took him about a half an hour.
After he packed his bag, he started to work on dressing for the trip to Samantha’s house. Snowpants, coat, hat, mittens, boots scattered all over the mudroom; 30 more minutes. I always wonder if by the time Sam is actually ready, Samantha will have moved away to college. Sometimes Samantha calls 2 or 3 times during “prep time” to see if the boy is still planning on coming. Getting ready to go to Samantha’s can be so labor intensive, that Sam forgets that he was actually going there in the first place and ends up playing something else entirely.
Once stuffed into his winter wear, he slung his backpack over his shoulders and headed out. No sooner had the back door closed behind him, than he blew back in through the very same door. “Mom, can you take me to Samantha’s- it’s too blowing out there- I can’t walk!” Even as I was throwing the weight of my body against the door, to shut it against the wind, I knew those little snowpanted legs were no match for the winds howling around the house.
I was still trying to pick up the debris left behind by 8 kids who had wrapped up a 5 day weekend and were now enjoying a snow day, I asked Josh if he would take Sam for me. “Mmm, mmm,” he said, his eyes glazed over like an onion. Sam and his back pack plopped down on the back step. I worked a few more minutes. Ellynne walked past Sam, slumped up against the shoe shelf. “Ellynne, will you take me to Samantha’s?” he asked. “Josh!” I “gently” urged my eldest and most responsible son onward. “Hmm?, What? Oh! Yep, yep I’ll take him!” he said standing up and heading for the door.
Josh spent the next 20 minutes shovelling the snow out from around his truck and then scraping his windshield free of the icy white stuff. Meanwhile, Sam intermittently pulled the door open to check his progress and then struggled against the wind to push it shut again. He sat with his backpack on, he laid down with his backpack off, he rolled over and repetitiously kicked his boots against the brick floor.
At 11:50 I checked my watch: lunch time. “Sam, why don’t you ask Josh if he’ll take you to McDonald’s for nuggets?” I suggested. “Nooooooooo!” he wailed. He normally would have jumped at this suggestion. He had earlier turned down Josh’s invite to the library. All because he wanted to play with Samantha. The stress of waiting was really starting to get to him. “Sam, you have to eat before you go to Samantha’s,” I explained. He still wouldn’t budge. I told that he would have to wait longer for me to make him a sandwich than he would for McDonald’s. He caved.
Josh finally finished cleaning off his car, installed Sam’s booster seat, and put an end to Sam’s distress. He eventually made it to Samantha’s with a full stomach and a flashy new race car: compliments of his Happy Meal. Ahh, alls well that ends well…; )
