Last week, at school drop off, Claire told me that she wanted to walk to her room herself. She didn’t need me to hold her hand or help her do anything when she got down there, thankyouverymuch. I knew this was coming, as she’d been walking way ahead of me pretty much since the third day of school.
“I need to meet another mom at 8:00!” I said, trying not to pout.
“Great! You can wait for her in the lobby!” she said, using my own often-used trickery rationale against me.
So, I waited in the lobby and pretended to be okay with this turn of events.
When I picked her up that day, she pointed to the Drop Off Lane, marked with bright cones, and said, “You do know that there’s a whole LANE for moms who drop off their kids in the morning, right? YOU could be in that lane, Mom.”
Well, alrighty then.
That night, Claire told Daddy her plan about how Momma was going to stay in the car and just use the Drop Off Lane. Daddy’s responses went from, “WHAT!?” to “Is that safe??” to “I’m old…” to “Hey, Claire! Let me show you how to tuck and roll from a moving vehicle!”
In a startling turn of events, Daddy seemed to be coping well with this change.
The next day, we did just that. I used the Drop Off Lane, and Claire was THRILLED. She hasn’t looked back since. Quite literally. I’m lucky if she blows me a kiss at all.
Today, I was scheduled for one of my volunteer shifts at the school library. “How is this going to work?” I said out loud in the kitchen before school. Claire had it all planned: “You drop me off in the Drop Off Lane and then just go around again and park! But, please stay in the car until the doors open…okay?”
I’d picked a volunteer time near the start of school to make my life easier. I hadn’t figured in all the Rules of Independent Diva Handling.
At least she hasn’t given me a checklist. Yet.









