Yesterday I volunteered to help Tornado E’s class on their field trip to the fire station that was across the street from the school. I was looking forward to volunteering as I was curious to see how my son acted in class, the son who the teacher told me couldn’t keep his hands to himself.
As I signed Tornado E into his class, the teacher told me about how they asked for two volunteers to go into the ladder on the ladder truck. As the teacher bubbled on, I felt a pit grow in my stomach, knowing that yes, the rumors where true that my uncle worked at the fire station and I was going to have to go on that stupidly high, 100 foot tall ladder. My uncle, being one of my father’s little brother, being from my father’s clan, would get a kick out of forcing his niece up a ladder she was terrified of. Yup, that’s how the clan rolls. My dad would totally do the same.
An hour later I walked with the other moms and children to the edge of the street. Across the street, down the drive way, out of the door, a man walked out, and I KNEW that stance. I KNEW that walked. I started to sweat profusely and damning the pro-estrogen that would make me sick but wasn’t strong enough to compete with the testosterone running riot in my blood stream. Crap.
As we walked across the street, as my uncle stood in the middle of the street to protect us from the stopping traffic, I smiled and began to pray. When I walked by him, after he had done his introduction, as he held out the door, I hugged him and paid my respects, still praying.
And I learned a few things that day:
- Tornado E doesn’t shout out in class.
- Tornado E does like to touch and gently shove other kids.
- Tornado E has found another little boy who will hug him back while trying to throw each other to the ground.
- Tornado E is one of the handfuls in the class.
- God answers prayers because two other moms jumped at the chance to ride the ladder with my uncle.