How Do I Interpret What He Is Thinking?

This past winter, early on a cold morning, I sent this email to John’s teachers:

“It breaks my heart but John chose to miss the bus this morning.
Dillydallying, bad choices and choosing to ignore all offers of help.
This breaks my heart, and yet we’ve been cruising up to this precipice a long time. So we are doing a Mom Day and #MomList all day today. John has helped me compose this email and is pressing Send. Barbara G. had talked about this happening once but only once in her family. I’m following that model.”

Thus, John was not happy, and tried valiantly to renegotiate.

Soon, from another room, I heard the front door slam.

No panic, I figured he was walking toward school.

I grabbed my stuff and headed out.

Scanning the street: no John.

38 degrees F outside.

I drove by the bus stop. No John.

Good thinking, John. I had said 10 times that you had missed the bus.

Why would he wait at the bus stop?

Then I headed out of the neighborhood, out to the busy street.

No John.

(Afterward, I hear from a neighbor mom who said John stopped in front of her house, the last bus stop out of the neighborhood. She then told him the bus had gone, and off he went wordlessly.)

Wordlessly is the key thing: I never get the long (or short) version of any story.

He is a young man who keeps it mostly in his head.

Back to #FadingTheSupports, I spy John stopped on the sidewalk, very near a high-traffic intersection.

I pull over, give a little toot, and beckon “come here”.

As he climbs wordlessly into the car (1/29/19 video), I keep it zipped other than to say, “How about a tardy?”

He is quiet, gives a tiny nod, and then says with a little smirk, “Guess I am going to be the last kid to school today”.

This is a great joke, as we are constantly talking about being #FirstKid, #LastKid and #MiddleKid.

To all activities.

Getting out of the house on time is a real challenge for us.

Anyway, we eventually are in the school office waiting for a tardy slip and the teacher kindly asks John if he’s running a little late.

He sheepishly looks at me, but I am #ZippingIt, standing as far out of the room as I can get.

He negotiates his first tardy slip, tentatively glances at me, gets a thumbs up, and starts trotting down the hallway.

As I am walking out of the school, his Assistant Principal steps out also, and I walk her to her car, telling the short version of the story.

Soon we are both laughing and talking kid strategies.

Let’s see how long John remembers this lesson. I will keep you posted.

(So far, he’s made the bus without having to run. So, hopefully, the lesson is sticking.)

Peace be with us,

Gayle