Swashbuckler

I cried at Heath's preschool today. I'd like to say this is the first time that has happened. It isn't. The best I can say is it has been a while. So maybe I was due.

The funny thing is it all came out of nowhere. Sure, there were early morning, before school moments of challenge, like when Heath decided to run into my bedroom and lock the door, so I couldn't get in. It took me five minutes to find and successfully use the key that is above the door. That set us back a bit. But I wasn't expecting Heath's Bruiser Bukowski personae to emerge the moment he stepped onto the playground.

It started with a truck tussle. It ended with Heath pushing a playmate down. This brought about a succession of pushes and grabbings and general frenzied escapades. After a few days of relative calm, I suppose we were due for this, too.

All of the sudden, I feel the tears well up. Mine start in my throat, and I was super hopeful I could just get out there and have my moment in the privacy of my car. That's when Heath, standing on top of the play structure with his buddy, gave a shove. No one came tumbling down. But enough was enough. Just as I was ready to yank Heath off the pirate ship and take him home, Miss Colleen intervenes.

No pushing, Heath. What if he fell off? she asked.

He would fall into a pile of pizza, Heath, the pusher, answered, pointing to the ground.

No, no, the pushee interrupts. I would swashbuckle down the rope.

Swashbuckling and pizza-landings aside, Miss Colleen goes about her business of helping Heath see the danger of the situation.

And now my tears have sprung into my eyes, and I realize I have about 20 seconds to get out of there before it's full-on waterworks. At this very moment, Heath decides he needs to go inside to the potty. And Stella decides to climb onto, and fall off of, a picnic bench. He wants to go potty. She is crying, because not only did she scare herself, she really doesn't want to leave the playground. And now an additional child would like to go potty. A quick, quiet, tearless exit is now out of the question.

Heath decides to run off. I've pretty much have Stella by the neck. And classmate is bringing up the caboose of this wayward, crying train.

They go potty. I collect my emotions. Shuffle them back to the playground. And escape in my car, looking very forward to my morning run.

And it was a good one.

How was your day? Heath asked, while I was putting him to bed tonight.

It was okay. A little tough at times, but good, I answered. How was your day?

Mine was tough, too, he confessed. You plan to watch 'Feet Funder and eat ice cream tonight?

Yes, Heath. Yes, I do plan to watch Six Feet Under and eat ice cream tonight.