You know how exciting it can be when you think that your mom is coming to school to see you say the Pledge of Allegiance in the school intercom microphone, something that you're kind of nervous to do, and then she gets there too late and you think she's the crummiest mom in the world, when just the week before you thought she was the greatest mom in the world because she bought you Pokemon cards that are all the rage in first grade? And she comes right after you do your thing, I mean like minutes after you've gone back to your classroom, and your teacher, who you're starting to like better than your mom most of the time because she never says, "Pick up your socks!" twenty times a day, says, "Did she come?" and you have to mumble an answer. "Nope." And all your teacher can say is, "Oh," and rub your back and then give you a hug.
Then your mom throws open the door to the classroom and says, so loudly that the kindergarten classroom can hear too, "I AM SO SORRY!" She hugs you, squishing you so tight you can hear the steady thrum of her heart beating, and says "Sorry!" over and over until you pull away and say, "I hate your stretching video." You know why she's late. You saw her doing stretches in front of the tv when you left for school. But you thought she'd come for this, your fifteen seconds of fame. Your teacher suggests you say the pledge in the classroom, and when that doesn't seem like enough, she says, "Why don't you go to the office and show your mom what you did this morning for the whole school?" So you take your mom's hand and walk to the office, explain to the ladies what you want to do and you pretend to speak into the microphone. You are smiling now, because secretly, speaking into a microphone is about the coolest thing you can think of to do. That's why you forgive your mom. You read your special thought for the day, which you wanted to be: Don't throw yellow snowballs, but which your parents convinced you to change to something about fixing mistakes. And you say the pledge for the third time that morning. Only this time, you have an audience of one: your mom. Who should have been there five minutes earlier. But wasn't. But even if she came late, she did come. So you hug her when she leaves. And then you say, "Do you have to do your stupid stretches EVERY day?"
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