Every morning before school I gather up the girls book bags to ensure that they have what they need for the day. This isn’t purely an act of maternal love or concern, it’s self-preservation. I stand a better chance of starting work on time if I don’t get a call from school that Cat forgot her glasses or Tate left her recycling project on the kitchen table.
These bags also provide unguarded insights into the secret lives of Cat and Tate. When I ask about school, their responses are more often than not “Fine. Good. Yeah. Chicken nuggets.” Sometimes they let me in on the hot gossip (“Juliette spit on Sidney” or “Austin has a crush on Taylor Swift”) but usually it’s “Fine. Good. Yeah. Chicken nuggets.”
So I paw through the bags like a bear at a campground trash can, sifting through the detritus to find a worthwhile nugget. I am scavenging for signs of who they are when not with me and who they are on the road to becoming. I have a voracious appetite for this knowledge.
Few of the finds are surprising. In addition to the requisite folders, day planner, library books and the like, there is the expected scraps of notes from friends declaring friendship forever. There are doodles and pictures. A stray stuffed animal sometimes stows away. Often there is a jumble of Hello Kitty lipgloss, hand sanitizer, tissues and gum – sort of a purse with training wheels.
But this morning, I found something surprising in Tate’s bag. I took it out, examined it, shook my head and put it back in its original spot. I said nothing for over 30 minutes.
Finally, on the drive to school, I had to ask.
“Tater, why do you have a whoopee cushion in your book bag?” I asked.
“How did YOU know that is in there?” she countered.
“I am Mommy. I know all. That is not the point. And don’t be defensive, you aren’t in trouble. I am just really, um…….curious as to why you would pack a whoopee cushion for school.”
“Cause of what you told me.”
“Excuse me?” I said. “I TOLD you to pack a whoopee cushion? Seriously? Was this when I had my concussion? Because I don’t remember telling you but I was a little loopy for a good month.”
“No Mom” she explained very patiently, as if speaking to someone with a concussion. “You always tell us to be prepared and so I packed it to be prepared.”
“I see,” I said though I really didn’t. “And what precisely are you preparing for?”
“Say I go to class and everyone is playing with all of the good toys already. I won’t need to be sad or anything. I have my own great toy to play with because I am prepared.”
And so, the nugget I gleaned today is that my girl is on her way to becoming a woman who is prepared and who is ready to bring a little levity into the most unexpected places in some surprising ways. If she isn’t sure there is fun to be had, she will just be sure to bring her own.
I can’t wait to check the bag tomorrow morning.