Tuesday, May 18, 2010

Might is Not Right

Wacky Neighbor calls me from her cell phone to tell me that she might not make it home in time to meet the school bus at 3:30pm. She might make it, she says, but in case she doesn't could I please accept delivery of her second grader and send him down to her house? He knows the code to get in, she says.

Bus arrives, right on schedule. I tell Wacky's son that his mom is on her way and that he can hang with us or head home. He opts to go to his house. I am mildly uncomfortable with this but recognize that I'm about a seven or an eight on the overprotective scale.

We are in the front yard so I know Wacky has not gotten back yet. I call Wacky to let her know that her son chose to go home. I share my discomfort with her and she brushes it off saying that she will call her house in a minute to make sure he got in. Well... okay.... let me know if he doesn't answer.

Wacky calls back and says that her son isn't answering the phone.

I recruit my next door neighbor to keep an eye on my kids while I go run down the street (and up Wacky's ski slope of a driveway) calling for Wacky's son. Turns out he couldn't get in the house so he was kicking rocks in the backyard.

He tells me that one time he couldn't get in and had to wait outside alone for three hours. I assume he has no real concept of time. Kind of like his mom.

On the way back to my house I call Wacky to tell her that her son is okay. "I'm right around the corner," she says. This makes no sense geographically but I'm optimistic.

Wacky pulls up and stops at the top of my driveway. She doesn't even get out of the car. "Thanks!" she shouts through her open window while yelling (!!) at her son to hurry up and get in.

I'm not a huge fan so I can barely stand to look at her. But, when I finally do, I notice something's off. Her hair looks weird. And then I realize what it is: her head is covered in Saran Wrap. She is late because she was getting her freaking color done! Which means that her first call to me had to have been from a chair in the hair salon. In the reception area of the hair salon.

In my life's sitcom, Wacky Neighbor now fills the roles of both dumb blonde (hopefully too blonde after this little episode) and grossly negligent parent. I've really got to talk with the writers about having her dropped from the show.

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