Small Moment: Crisis in the Drop-Off Lane

Elliott pounded his feet on the floor of the van, holding tight to the headrests of the front seats. "They're already lining up for the flag salute! No, no, no! I missed morning work!" His face flushed almost as red as his glasses as his kicks grew wilder. "I missed morning work! I missed morning work! And I'm late." 

Surprised at his intensity, Maggie's hands froze on the steering wheel. "Bud, it's 8:13. You are not late yet. Just go line up with your class," she urged. She was keenly aware of the line of cars behind them in the drop-off lane.

She repeated herself, hearing a familiar edge to her voice. Her face and chest tingled with hot sparks she had learned to recognize as anxiety.  She knew she was at a crossroads she had visited many times before—anger or calm. I can't calm him if I'm not calm, she told herself, and bit back further instructions. Instead she took a deep breath and tuned into her racing thoughts. 

I feel pressure to solve this quickly. We're in the drop off lane, we're not supposed to linger, people are waiting, we're in the way. Great, just great. Dropping off is so convenient but I'll probably have to walk him in every day from now on just like I had to do for Charlotte ... OK that's not relevant and is definitely not helping us now. I need to pause and focus. 

Maggie took another deep breath and performed silent triage while Elliott continued his lament over the missed morning work. A plan and several backup plans in mind, she twisted in the driver's seat toward her older son, who stood uncertainly outside the van door. "Zachary, just go in without him. I'm going to pull all the way forward so we don't block the drop off lane." 

Zachary said his goodbyes. Maggie inched the van forward, Elliott still lamenting, sliding door still gaping open. Maybe I should go ahead and park instead? Will he calm down in time? She reminded herself to breathe again.

The pressure of blocking traffic removed, she felt much more relaxed. "Bud," Maggie began, with a softer voice this time. "I understand you wanted to do your morning work. We'll have to plan to get to school earlier on Fridays from now on so you can do that before flag salute, OK?"

Elliott took a ragged breath. "Yeah. Wait, am I late now? I don't want to be late for school. No, no! Now I'm late!" His voice spiraled up and tears started anew.

Maggie put a hand on her son's small shoulder. "Elliott, pause. You are not late. The gate is still open. You can get out of the van now and still be on time."  

He picked up his backpack, took a step and froze in his tracks. "I don't want to be late. Are you sure I'm not late?" 

"Not yet. You will be in a second though unless you get out of the van now. Look, they're waiting on you to close the gate."  

Almost suddenly as it began, the storm cleared from Elliott's face. His whole demeanor shifted and he hopped out of the van. "Bye, Mom!"

Before pulling away from the curb, Maggie braked hard, and the sliding door slammed with a satisfying thud.