Season of More! 2016: Joyous Surprise

My mornings consist of wrangling (sometimes literally...) 4 children into some semblance of readiness for school. We've gotten the lunch routine to take place in the evenings along with putting out clothes for the next day. 

But, that still leaves: waking up, actually putting the clothes on, figuring out what they want to eat for breakfast...eating breakfast, putting on socks & shoes, getting on coats, getting lunches from the fridge, Will you PLEASE put on your socks & shoes, making sure snow pants are in backpacks--unless you're wearing them, get your backpack, WHY HAVE YOU NOT PUT ON YOUR SHOES & SOCKS YET?, brushing hair, yes, you can go poop, but please hurry...we're getting in the car, backpackbackpackbackpackBACK.PACK!....Your shoes go on your FEET, not in your backpack...I have no idea where you put your homework...I told you to put it in your BACKPACK last night...

OK. Everyone's in the car? Leave your sister alone. Get in the car. Buckle up. Buckle up. BUCKLE! 

And then we jam out to Pink and get gum (if we've made it out of the driveway by the pre-appointed time) and get everyone to school and I pick up a coffee at the gas station (and often times a sleeve of those grossly awesome chocolate covered mini-donuts) and then on to work.

Today, Grandma Cheryl was coming over to take everyone to school. Everyone was at the table eating, their coats and backpacks were all laid out by the door ready for them,  and I said, "I'm going to go change my clothes." (It was 7:30a. and I was still in my pajamas.) So, I'm in my room changing. I hear the front door open and think, "Ah! Mom's here. Great." I'm only half listening for any exchange with her as we're still working on actually greeting someone when they come in the door. I get my clothes on and decide to put shoes on in the living room. 

I open my bedroom door. It's quiet in the front part of the house. 

A little TOO quiet.

I walk out. The 14-year old comes out of the bathroom and asks, "Where are the kids?"

I don't know. Their coats aren't there any more. Neither are their backpacks. The dishes are all still on the table, but they're empty. I look out the front window. They're not playing out front. And Grandma Cheryl's car isn't out there. I look in back. They're not there. 

A tiny sliver of panic tries to wiggle into my brain. 

No. They're probably over on the side of the house. 

I throw my shoes on and go outside. I don't hear them, but...the acoustics on the side of the house can make the noise not come around to the front door, right?

I go to the side. No one. 

The sliver starts to wedge solidly into my heart as I turn to go back into the house...

And see all four of them, grinning like the goofballs they are, sitting in the car, buckled with their shoes on, coats on, backpacks at their feet. 

They wanted to surprise me and had most solidly "got me". 

These kids! I love 'em.