Sorry is a feeling.

Erika had a rough morning, like she hasn't had in a while (I won't go into detail, but here is an example of what a rough morning can look like). By the time the bus came, I was holding her hand and escorting her down the driveway, while she tried repeatedly to kick me. The bus driver watched as I expertly dodged those kicks, until finally, Erika pulled away from my grip and ran away in the opposite direction of the bus.

Clearly, this was not going to be a great day. I told the bus driver that I'd be driving her to school this morning. Good call on my part, because the bus driver informed me that she could not allow her onto the bus if she was exhibiting these kinds of behaviors prior to boarding. Fair enough.

The car ride to school
I have no idea why things are so rough on the bus right now. It's tempting to drive her to school for the rest of the school year, although I currently have a 9 a.m. class twice a week, so that's not really an option until my semester's over. Let's face it, any parent knows that by her not getting on the bus and me driving her to school, it is possible that I am rewarding (and even encouraging) the unwanted behavior. But I can't really look at it like that right now…her behavior prevented them from transporting her today, so I had no choice in it this time.

Erika had no problem getting in the car to go to school. She was neither defiant nor aggressive. She was very matter-of-fact about it. Once it had been decided that the bus was not an option for today, I also took it all in stride. She had tried to kick me and hit me while waiting for the bus, but now all was calm, and I was more than ready to embrace that.

Pancakes and Syrup

This weekend, I made pancakes. At our house, since we want to eat them while they're hot, we find ourselves eating them in shifts. One of the kids put placemats on the table, and a new bottle of syrup. Erika was the first kid I served. She sat down, and I noticed that she was struggling to get some syrup out of the container, which was still sealed from the grocery store.

I said, "Oh, sweetie, there's another syrup in here that's already open."

Erika immediately got up and returned the new bottle of syrup to the pantry near where I was flipping the next batch of pancakes. She looked around, but didn't find what she was looking for. I came over, and found the opened syrup bottle behind a few boxes of cereal. I handed it to her, and she poured her own syrup.

As I continued with my pancake-making prowess, I considered the very remarkable thing that just happened.