Tales from Carpool

I think I told you a little while back that my carpool load doubled this year. Last year I drove a 9 year old boy to school, and this year he's (obviously) advanced to double digits, and his little sister has joined him. She's four and in preschool.

And I'm not sure two more opposite human beings exist on this planet.

He's quiet. We went through entire car rides last year without uttering a single word. He isn't really fond of mornings, and I've never been accused of being overly giddy during them either. So it worked out just fine. If he had something to say, he'd say it, but that was rare.

His sister, on the other hand, has a zest for life (and mornings) that just won't quit. Everything is big and wonderful, and there are a thousand stories to be told. (And where stories fail, she retells old ones. Or makes up stories.)

In the past month, I have been ridiculously amused at the interaction between the two of them as I sip my coffee and drive to school.

Yesterday, for example, I pulled up to their house, and Sister was jumping up and down in the front yard, waving wildly. "GOOD MORNING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" she said as she climbed in the back seat and settled into her booster. (The booster, by the way, that she sometimes kisses when she gets in, because she misses it so much when she's not with it.) She was all buckled in, but I hadn't seen the first glimpse of Brother yet.

Finally he dragged out to the car, opened his door, collapsed into his seat, and announced loudly, "I don't want to go to school. It's so boring." (I honestly thought I'd hear that a few weeks ago, so I was impressed we made it this long!) Before I could try to counter him with an annoyingly wise tidbit of encouragement, Sister exclaimed, "WHAT? SCHOOL IS AWESOME!!!!!!!!"

I giggled right out loud into my coffee. Yes, indeed. The two extremes had spoken. Brother assured her that it was only awesome because she was in preschool. Once she got to higher grades, she would understand that it's no fun anymore.

(Remembering my many recesses spent inside trying to pass the multiplication timed tests, I bit my tongue from agreeing with him. We'll let her make her own opinions.)

Brother disappeared into a book, and Sister chattered happily all the way to school, telling me random facts about life, including the recent realization that her mother is an adult and a repeated story about her favorite ride at Holiday World: the Toilet Bowl. That brought Brother out of his book. "Stop talking about toilets," he said.

"I'm not talking about toilets. I'm talking about the TOILET BOWL."

Noted.

We got to school and Sister flung her door open to hop out in the drop-off line. The school's police officer, who has helped her out of the car before, was standing back a few feet. Sister paused mid-exit and hollered "HIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII POLICE!"

Everything is grand with her. You know, I have a feeling school really won't be boring for her, because nothing is boring.

Dramatic, but not boring. 

(Let's not forget two days ago, when her brother corrected her on something in the car, and she wailed "But I thought you loved me!!!!! Whyyyyyyyyyyy don't you love me?")

Oh boy.

It is not going to be a boring school year for this driver. Not by a long shot.