img src="image.png" alt=""

100 ROCKS

There is half-eaten toast haphazardly tossed on plates, spilt orange juice and smeared Weetbix on the countertop. Crumbs everywhere. I shudder at the thought of having to clean up this mess.

“Mandy! Hurry up with getting dressed! We’re leaving in fifteen minutes!” I yell over the noise from the TV.

“I am! Stop yelling!” replies my cantankerous five-year-old.

I look down at my toddler sitting happily in his high chair, his cherubic face smeared with Vegemite. With a heavy sigh, I quickly wipe him down and go about getting his nappy changed. I sniff then peek in. No gold nuggets. A win!

While the children leisurely make their way to the car, I lug a heavy school bag, keys, jackets, Henry’s snacks and a nappy bag.

The minute I park the car, my daughter asks, “Mum, is the hundred days party today?”

A trickle of doubt seeps into my mind until I catch sight of other prep children walking to school dressed as old people.

“Yes sweetheart, it’s today,” I reply, confident.

“Mum, did you pack my hundred things?” Mandy questions.

I look at her, drawing a blank. A vague memory pulls at my subconsciousness, but I can’t quite grasp it. It feels familiar.

“I told you a few days ago? A zip locked bag of a hundred things like beads or sticks?” Mandy prompts.

Ah heck. That’s right. I finally remember. And I had completely forgotten. I frantically rummage around in the boot for this magical bag that I know doesn’t exist. Nothing. I grab Henry’s plastic disposable nappy bag. This will do.

“Honey, I’m sorry but I forgot. How about we quickly find something to put in this bag?” I say, trying to appease my daughter.

“Mum! You never listen to anything I say!” Mandy starts to grumble.

I flinch at her accusatory words and search again for a zip locked bag. Luckily I find a couple of coin bags in the console. Score! Fist pump!

We race around the car park looking for suitable things. Time is slipping. I am sweating from fluffing about like a mad chook on steroids. I silently pray that I don’t have embarrassing sweat stains visible under my armpits.

We walk to a nearby crafts store. The door is locked. Of course it was closed! With heads hung in defeat, we walk back to school. There I see a pile of small rocks discarded out front of a construction site next to the crossing level. Bent down, filled with mortification, I count and collect the rocks while other parents pass by. Mandy grabs the filled bags and without a backwards glance or thank you, races off to join her friends.

I look at my daughter’s retreating form and sigh. Some days being a mum is a thankless job. I glance down at Henry who is pointing at a dog and saying, “duck!”

I laugh, relieved to have survived yet another morning school run.

Copyright © 2019, KN J Tales and Snippets. All rights reserved.

https://knj.home.blog/privacy-policy/

Published by

Kathy - KN J Tales and Snippets

Creative writer and storytelling enthusiast, sharing snippets of my journey through life and parenting. Aiming to inspire, empower and ignite laughter with every word that I write.

One thought on “100 ROCKS”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s