Steve

Steve has worn the same uniform to school three days in a row. Last night I forgot to wash them after he showered. This morning when I woke up Steve came up stairs, held his arms wide and said. "Ta, da!" He had put a dirty one back on, had his shoes and socks on, and had packed a lunch for himself and Emily. He was already to go, Wow.

On Tuesdays and Thursdays he stays after school for ballroom dance. When I went to get him this afternoon he came out and asked to stay and watch Emily dance--her class meets after his. "Pleeeeeeease." I said I guessed it was alright. After I watched to make sure he got in the building I went to pick up Sam, and stopped at the store before I went back at the end of Emma's class. When I got to the school he was out front crying. I called to him and he got in the car. When I asked what was wrong he said "Where did you go? I only wanted to watch the first dance not the whole class." He was crying, wiping his face, and blowing his nose on his shirt. And now I think he is asleep in the three-day-old, pencil-marked, whiteboard-erased, gym-floor-mopped, playground-cleaned, nose-wiped shirt. Well at least I'm going to wash the others--right now.