Gratuitous Domestic Posting (TM)

Well, in the absence of the Missus and the eldest gel, I managed to get the two younger Llama-ettes up, dressed, fed, lunchboxed and off to school without much fuss this morning. I even managed to brush their hair to the extent that they didn't look quite like Medusa's little sisters, although some of the effect was spoiled by the top-down jeep ride over to St. Marie of the Blessed Educational Method.

Since the Missus teaches there, I don't generally do drop-offs or pick-ups at school, but when I do, we often seem to make something of a spectacle of ourselves. Coming through the line, not only does my Wrangler stand out in the sea of SUVs and minivans, but the gels have developed a number of creative ways of getting out. Sometimes they will swing through the door from the rollbar like uniformed apes. Other times, when the top is down, I will let them simply jump off the back. In a custody battle, I'm sure this would be grounds for barring me from even being in the same county as them, but I like to think that the cool creds I ring up actually improve the bond among us and that the gels will look back on the memory fondly. Plus, I am endlessly amused by watching the expressions on other parents' faces as my brood tumbles out.

BTW, speaking of tumbling, I write here often about the hell-on-wheels five year old, usually in some exasperation. However, I must give the gel credit for being no fool. After I told her for the tenth time this morning to get out of bed and she persisted in pretending to be asleep, I said matter-of-factly, "Okay, I guess I'll just have to pour water on your head," and began moving toward the cup. She was up in no seconds flat, laughing because she knew full well that I would have relished, relished the opportunity of booshing her. That's my gel: while she perpetually dances over the line, she always knows exactly where it is.