Spirit Week!

It's Spirit Week! Use all the exclamations! I didn't even know my kids' school had a Spirit Week until Miguel came to me earlier in the week and said, "I need a cowboy hat, a bandana and a mustache." I stared at him as I do a lot these days and asked an eloquent and well-phrased question, "Um. Why?"

That's when he told me about Spirit Week and Western Day. That was on Wednesday so I am not sure what spirited activities he had already missed but  he was serious about Western Day. So, I found him a bandana and he found his box of mustaches and that was enough.

In his best southern accent, he said, "Hi. My name is Keith and I am from the great state of Texas. Nice state you have here except for all the liberals trying to take my guns."

Those were Keith's exact words.

To the Texans who may be reading this, I apologize for the stereotypes and, for what it's worth, I enjoyed Keith's company tremendously. He was a riot and represented your state well.

This morning, Miguel came down in his pajamas - his light weight pajama pants with skulls on them and a fleece monkey shirt (which used to be my sister's) over a pajama shirt. His hair was perfectly gelled and he told me he was ready for school. I said, "Um. You have your pajamas on." He then informed me that it was Pajama Day!

So, he gathered up his things and I handed him his trilobite cake and Zeca held the door for him and we all headed to school. We arrived and both kids tumbled out of the car and I wished them luck on their various projects and, as I slowly pulled away from the curb, I saw Miguel running towards the car. I rolled down the window, "WHAT?!"

"MOM! It's NOT pajama day! You have to take me home to change!"

I then made what was probably the cruelest parenting decision I've ever made. I said, "I'm not taking you home to change. You'll be late for school! Go on. You'll be fine." and then I drove away.

I wanted to teach him a lesson. We have made so many extra trips to school this year for all the things he has forgotten. This was the latest in a series of disorganized happenings in his little life. I wanted him to get that I was not going to spend all my days driving to and from school because he didn't have a handle on things.

The first few minutes of my drive home, I laughed. Hysterically. Wearing pajamas when it's not Pajama Day is funny in that "Oh my god! Can you believe it? People have nightmares about that!" kind of way.

Then, I started to feel guilty. I started thinking about the entire junior high laughing at him and I realized I had made a terrible mistake.

By the time I arrived home, I had already decided to take him some clothes. Just then, my phone rang and it was Miguel. I could here girls laughing in the background and he said, "Mom! You have to bring me clothes! I feel so exposed!" I sighed and he said, "If you don't, I will leave school and walk home."

So, I got his clothes and drove back to school and took them up to the junior high and he was surrounded by kids and had obviously not died of embarrassment. I handed him the clothes, gave him my signature disapproving look and left.

As I walked out, his art teacher said, "You brought him clothes. I said I didn't think you would. You are a good mom."

"Well, he told me he'd walk home if I didn't." and at the same time, we both said, "And he would!"

As she walked away, she said, "I just love your son so much."

Yeah. I love him too. Mostly.