Selfishly Stomping My Carbon Footprint

I have long since lost the ability to effectively plan how to get two small children to any event. Yet, today, despite numerous trips back to the house for forgotten toys and snacks and books and despite heavy traffic, I was very, very early to a play group planned by Aunt Justine at her church.

As our car approached the church, I took one look at the parking lot and saw that no one else had yet arrived. Marshall was asleep, so I did the only sensible thing--I kept driving. 

Five minutes later, Adella asked, "Are we there yet, Granma?"

"Soon," I replied, as I turned the car around. 

When I passed the parking lot a second time, there was still no one else there, so, once again, I sensibly kept driving. And I began to worry that the members of this play group would be late--on Mormon Standard Time, which is anywhere from ten to thirty minutes late.  We drove a full ten minutes in the other direction.

I saw in my rear view mirror that Adella's eyes were very heavy. 

"Are we there yet?" she asked again, adding, "I don't want to fall asleep or I will miss the music lady  and Jimbo."

"It's o.k. if you want to take a short nap," I suggested. "I promise I will wake you up when we get there." 

Of course, this promise came from a shifty grandma who kept assuring Adella we were almost there. I was reminded of all those evenings, years ago, just at dusk, when I used to strap her mother and her uncle into their car seats, duplicitously promising them we were heading to Lewis Morris Park to count the deer. I had not changed in nearly thirty years. I was still selfishly stomping my carbon footprint in a get-a-child-to-sleep-quick scheme.

In my defense, I was tired. My little grandbabies appear at my door at 6:30 in the morning and today I had found it a Herculean task to simply take a shower and dress myself with two little ones in tow, much less to feed and dress and get them out the door before 9 o'clock. I really was just hoping Adella would nod off, so I could take a quick nap in the parking lot before the other parents and children arrived.

But Adella was as determined to stay awake as I was to try and get a catnap. I decided to drive past the church once more.

"Granma," Adella said, "I've seen that school before. And that building too! Why are we going by it again?"

Busted.

I pulled into the parking lot of that building, the church. By then there was another car, another newcomer to the group who had arrived early. 

Fate, or rather an observant grandchild, kept me from my nap. At least the playgroup was a great success--Adella and Marshall were the first to arrive and the last to leave.