I Hate to be Late!

Oooh. I'm in deep shit.

I went to babysit my daughter's class today while the teachers had a meeting. The meeting was supposed to be over at noon. The other mothers who were supposed to help me didn't show up. The teacher didn't come back until 12:30.

And during all that time, my husband was home for lunch and watching the boy. He was supposed to be back at work as close to noon as possible.

But there I was. Stranded on a playground all alone with 42 first graders. What could I possibly do?

To make it worse, I had forgotten my phone and couldn't even tell him I would be late. And then I hit every red light between school and home.

It's not like he was missing some boring accounting meeting. He was supposed to be mission planning.

As soon as I pulled up in front of our house, he came out of the door and hopped in his truck. With me yelling, "I'm sorry!" after him.

I feel bad. But I'm pissed off too. There is nothing, nothing, that bothers me more than people who are late. Except for people who don't show up at all.

Have we lost all sense of responsibility?

Oh! And to top off my afternoon, the kids decided to play Guess How Old the Substitute Is.

"Thirty-nine?" No.

Forty-two?" No!

"Thirty-eight?" Jeepers!

"37? 36? 35? 34? 33? I know. 32!" Yup.

"That's old!"

Yeah, well, I'm younger than your mother, kid.