SamXtreme

That is going to be my child's WWF name someday. (I think fake wrestling is called something else now, but I don't know what.) He is the extreme child.

DH is a SAHD this week since Abe's school is closed in preparation for the new school year. Sam is still going to his summer program. So the idea was for me to take advantage of the chance to get to work a bit early instead of taking the kids to school as I normally do. (Anybody else unable to bring themselves to say "daycare?" It's school! I swear! OK, I'm ridiculous, I know.) Anyway, right. I haven't been into work before 8:10 all week. Only one day has DH taken Sam in. He prefers to go with me because that's his routine. Routine is important for a 6 year old. I know.

But today I didn't even wake up until 7:10 and I felt like I had an anvil on my chest. Not sick ... just slept funny and feel sore. I dreamed all night that I was driving my minivan and couldn't control it. I kept coasting backward whenever I applied the brake. I kept careening through busy intersections, past semi-familiar buildings ... all without a scratch, but it was terrifying. Of course I also had a reporter and photographer in the van with me (something I'll be doing this afternoon). Waking up after a night of stress dreams always sucks.

So I rushed to get ready and eat breakfast. I did feed the kids but didn't get them dressed. Then when I finally was ready to get out the door at 8:00, Sam panicked because he wasn't ready to go with me. I refused to wait for him. I felt so mean, but man ... dad can take him to school just as well as I can. It's not often I get to take advantage of having a spouse at home.

Anyway, that kid sure can throw a fit. I just needed to write to reassure myself that his psyche will not be scarred. I felt pretty bad leaving him crying, watching the garage door close and hide his sad little face.