The Grand Finale

Just for Heather and Juju, I will now recount for you what I am wishfully dubbing the Grand Finale of the SSFs (Sara Silent Fits, for those of you who haven't been keeping up with the latest lingo here at In Over Our Heads). I did not capture it on video for reasons that will become readily apparent. But I will attempt to paint a picture for you. Allow me to set the scene:

Wednesday, 5:15 pm, picking up the kids from day care

I go into the school and get Hallie and Sara first. This is going well, I think. They are both glad to see me, have apparently had good days, and are excited about going to church.

We go get Brooks. We enter his room, and I set Sara down so that I can gather Brooks and all of his paraphenalia. (The girls have graciously decided to carry their own bags on the walk to the car, which was a blessed divergence from their M.O. earlier in the week that involved a comparably horrendous scene at the day care...but I digress.) Again, this is going well. I gather Brooks, his bottles, and his bag, and I walk toward the door. The girls are following me.

And then it happens. Sara realizes: Mommy. Isn't. Carrying. Me!

And just like that, the serenity deteriorates. Sara starts crying. I coax her out of the classroom with promises of church, Archie in the car, a sucker from Mr. Danny at the front desk before we leave. I'm pulling out all the stops. We make it four paces down the hallway, and I see her lowering to the ground out of the corner of my eye. Of course, I am carrying Brooks and all of his luggage, so there is not a whole lot I can do about this. I stand in the hallway pleading patiently with my toddler, who is completely ignoring me, to puh-lease come to the car. I have all but promised her a pony. I have tried pretending to walk away. I have tried to reason with her, explaining I cannot physically carry her and Brooks at the same time. I have threatened that she will be "in trouble" if she doesn't get up. Sensing my inability to follow through on any of this, she is nonresponsive. I am approaching the end of my rope.

As I am standing at the end of the hallway, just out of Sara's line of sight, hoping she will be inspired to get up and follow us (and shamelessly asking my lookout Hallie for updates regarding her position), I hear an adult voice talking to Sara. It's another mom--a mom of twins, actually, God bless her--who is carting her two bundles of joy to her car via double stroller and who literally cannot get through the hallway because Sara's facedown protest is horizontal in placement and takes up 3/4 of the walkway. For some reason, this makes some degree of sense in that little head of hers. She reluctantly gets up, and, still furious, follows me down the hall and out the door.  By the time we get to the car she is over it.

And that, ladies and gents, is my latest lesson in humility, brought to you by Sara Frances Head.