I haven’t been sleeping all that well since getting back from Washington, and my attempt to return to a more nocturnal schedule has run directly into my obligation to take my son to school at an entirely unacceptable time of day. To be fair, I’ve gotten him there early every single day that it’s been my job to take him, but there’s always the lurking horror that one day I might have to explain myself to the Principal. Some things never change.

7:42 a.m.- 33 minutes until First Bell

The Bedroom

“Dad, wake up! It’s… seven… four… two…”

My eyes still closed, I grasped for my charging cell phone and responded, “You mean 7:42?”

“Yeah, 7:42. Come on, Dad! We’re going to be late!”

I looked at my phone to confirm the time, and saw that I had overslept. To hammer home the point, an ignored alarm began blaring in my face. “Ughh… Okay, get dressed. Your clothes are on the dresser.” I motioned in the general direction of his uniform which my wife had set out the night before. “Change out of your pajamas first.”

“I know, Dad!”

“Okay, I’m saying…”

I seriously considered tossing my phone across the room and going back to sleep, but decided that leaving my son to his own devices would probably come back to haunt me. I watched as my son grabbed each article of clothing, one by one, and carried them across the room to put them on, and then returning for the next layer a moment later. “You know you you can grab the whole stack, right?”

“Dad! You need to get dressed! We’re going to be late!”

“Dude,” I sighed, “Chill. It takes me like, I don’t know… two minutes to put on my clothes. We’re good, man.”

“Okay.” He seemed pretty judgmental for a dude in socks and underwear. I stretched out, and felt my back protest. I calculated how much money I had left, and tried to figure if I had enough for a new bed. I didn’t think that there was much point in getting another substandard mattress and box spring set, but wasn’t sure if I could cover anything much better. I knew it would be an investment in the future, but I-

“Okay, I’m done!”

“Great… Okay, go and-“

“Wash my hands and face?”

“Yeah… Gimme a minute, I’ll get dressed.”

David scampered across the hall to the bathroom, and I dragged myself out of bed.

7:57 a.m.- 18 minutes until First Bell

The Kitchen

Having both finished dressing, and using the facilities, my son and I went to the kitchen to rustle something up. “Don’t forget my pills, Dad. Two today.” I took a moment to look at my son, and the weight of his words sunk into me. Just a couple months ago, he had been terrified to take his state sponsored speed, fearing that he’d choke upon the tiny pills. But now he was an old pro at taking his medication, and only needed his Piña Colada yogurt drink to swallow them. I poured him a glass, handed him the pills, and watched him swig them down with ease.

He’d been eager to resume his medication lately, ever since his teacher had been complaining of his energy levels and telling him that maybe his parents needed to increase the dosage. Her forwardness irritated me, but since we put him back at his full dose, his behavior in class has improved, and everything he’s told me about how he feels while he’s on them has reassured me that it’s not a simple dexedrine zombie state. He seems to be able to compartmentalize his bursting energies when on the drug, and I’d like to see if he can use his strategies to try and deal with this without taking pills every day.

He finished his drink, and rinsed out the cup before setting it in the sink. “Come on,” I said, “Let’s go see what we can do about your hair.” Like every morning, a large swath of hair was spiking out at random angles in the back, and, although I felt that he looked just like any other little boy in this regard, I knew his mother would have been mortified for people to see him in such an unkempt condition. I moistened my hands, and ran my fingers through his hair, trying to subdue the problem areas, and then ran a brush over his dampened head, hoping that it would be enough, while realizing that, as I didn’t really care, I probably wouldn’t be the most impartial judge.

“Okay, let’s go. Where’s your backpack?”

“I’ve got it right here, Dad.”

“Okay, you ready?”

“Ready!”

“Come on, let’s do this thing.”

“You’ve got your keys, Dad?”

“Yeah, monkey man. They’re right here.” We walked out the door into the Bay Area’s approximation of chilly, and headed toward his school.

8:07 a.m.- 8 minutes until First Bell

Just outside David’s School

“Oh, so don’t forget to tell your teacher that you’ve got a doctor’s appointment today.”

“Why?”

“Because you’ve got a doctor’s appointment today.”

“Oh… What time?”

“I’ll come and get you around one o’clock.”

“Can you and Mommy pick me up together?”

“Sorry, sweetheart. Mommy won’t get off from work in time. But we’ll meet her at the doctor’s office.”

We walked in through the gates, and to the packed cafeteria, where David grabbed a bagged cinnamon roll and a juice box. Normally by this time, all the kids had lined up outside, or were at least in the general area, running around, enjoyed the final moments of freedom before classes began, but since the temperatures had dropped, none of the adults wanted to chaperone the playground any longer than they absolutely had to. Of course, by the time that David had gone through the line, and grabbed the sugariest breakfast he could find (parents are not allowed in line- the kids have to learn to make their own choices (or so the sign posted in the cafeteria reads)), it was finally time to brave the elements and get in line. He attacked the pastry with frightening speed, and sucked down the juice without hesitation, tossing the packaging into the nearest trashcan, and dragging my outside.

“Okay, David. Have a great day today.”

“I will, Dad.”

“I love you, big guy.”

“Me too, Dad.”

“Oh, hey- don’t forget to remind your teacher about your homework.”

“So homework and doctor, right?”

“That’s it, man. I’ll see you this afternoon.”

I gave him a hug and kiss, knowing that in just a few short years, if not sooner, I would be forbidden this for fear that it would be considered uncool. But at least, for now, the world is as it should be, and I can still gather my baby boy up in my arms, and plant smooches upon his cheek and brow. I turned to look at him as I walked away, and marveled at just how short a time seven years truly are.

-Tex