Tradition. This is what makes the family clickety clack like a well-oiled machine. Or.... is it tradition that puts a catch in the giddyhop? Let's explore this question. Each and every day after a grueling day as a fourth grader, Joseph insists on being dropped off at the mailbox stanchion each afternoon to collect the daily mail. Then, as an added bonus, we "race" to the garage door - him running (all saddled up with a half-open backpack, unzipped jacket and clunky winter boots encumbering his mobility) taking the lane up the snow-drifted front yard while I stay in the designated momvan lane of the cul-de-sac approach and driveway. And as stupefying as it may sound, Joseph seems to win this boot vs. wheel contest each and every day. How can this be? Good fun, right?
Yeah, it's all fun and games until... the mom discovers a wetted, ripped up invoice for the latest snow gear purchase in the snow along the front curb... and two Christmas cards from far-away friends... and the spelling list from Monday... and... the invitation to a birthday party that has since taken place. Part backpack contents, part mail - all stirred up in a dirty stew of slush and snow. The mom begins to think back...
Is this why she hasn't heard from the college friends in Ohio at Christmas for awhile?
Could this be why there was "no" spelling test this week?
And is this why a certain mom at school cuts her off in the school lane each day?
Ahh... it's all making sense now. Who knows what else could possibly be decomposing in my front lawn - a postcard reminder from my dentist? An invitation to the State Dinner at the White House? A notice from Publisher's Clearing House to be home at a certain time so they can present me with $20,000,000??? Hmm..
So, if you are someone who has felt ignored by me or a family member at this address - for no apparent reason, you now have a reason... tradition.