The second phone call comes at 9:30.
"Grandma, you can come right now. "
"We won't miss it?"
"No, but hurry."
"We're leaving right now."
The first annual sixth grade rocket launch was at 8:00 am and we were still in our Jammie's. All three of us. "Sorry," I told him, but "we'll never make it on time." It's now 9:30, a second rocket launch is about to take place, and this time, I don't have the heart to tell him we still are all in our pjs. However, this time, we're going to make it.
It's a mad rush to pull two infants out of pajamas and into street clothes. For myself, it's pretty easy; everything I have is in a laundry basket, hastily thrown together minutes before I had to leave.
I pick up the 2.6 year old. Hmm, I hope these pants fit you, and an unexpected bonus--they match his pajama shirt. Hey! It looks like a regular shirt. One step eliminated!
Everyone is almost ready to go. Shoes? The boys can go barefoot. It is then I see in my haste, I forgot regular shoes. Heels coming from school and heels for Friday, but I need runners right now. I rip through my daughter's shoes and am thankful we wear the same size.
A grabbed bottle from the fridge, one little guy in my arms, I lead the other into the garage. We could take the car, but getting each boy in his car seat puzzle is a deterrent. The stroller is easier until I see it's partly folded over. Squishing one baby and searching the back of the seats, I try to force it into position. Click. The 2.6 year old at the front of the stroller has it figured out. Thank goodness for two year olds who can figure out technology when their grandmas can't.
Everyone buckled, grandma shoe'd, and we're running down the sidewalk. I can do this. We're going to make it.
A short walk later, we open onto a field of revelry! Sixth grade energy everywhere. Tiny, squirrly girls running here and there. Animated, child-like boys circling and jumping in packs. We barely stop when Whooooosh! The first rocket launches followed by another and another. Cheers and I am laughing like I've never laughed. Almost uncontrollably. The venue is so unique and we made it on time! And the little boys are so serious! I laugh so hard, I start to cry! This is joy: loved ones, great effort with time-luck of the Irish, and so, so different from my usual mornings. Big brother comes over to join us. It's a Mary Poppins moment in the chalk drawing.
And then it starts to rain, or in our case, the baby, long overdue from his morning nap begins to cry. Our magical world disappears; like Jane, Michael and Bert, we head for home.