Fear of the Crosswalk Lady

What’s your biggest fear? Shark attack? Hurricane? Spiders?

If you asked me that question I wouldn’t even hesitate to answer: I’m scared of the crosswalk lady at my daughter’s school!

That’s right, the crosswalk lady. To the innocent passerby she might seem nice and sweet. But really she’s just waiting to pounce on someone and inflict her justice! She’s a mall security guard gone bad!

My daughter’s school has numerous volunteers that help guide traffic in and out of the parking lot, stopping traffic as needed for the children to cross the crosswalk onto the school campus. Some of the volunteers are nice soccer moms. Some are men. But one of them is a woman with an agenda. She’s gonna clean up this school by kicking butt and taking names!

The school has a routine in place of how parents should drop off their kids. It’s a little tricky for new parents, but once you get it down it’s easy. This school is a special school that brings kids from all over town. There are no busses, so the “car” traffic is pretty busy on any given morning. No worries. All a parent needs to do is wait in the line of cars, pull in the long circular driveway, stop when traffic stops, and drop off your child.

Where’s the problem?

That’s what I’m still wondering.

Here’s what seems to be the problem:

  I didn’t pull up far enough.
  I pulled up too far.
  I didn’t stop soon enough.
  I stopped too soon!
  I dropped her off to early… no…. I dropped her off too late!

Aaaaauuugh! I feel as if I’m being followed by a police car in a 55 zone and he’ll pull me over for speeding at 56, but he’ll cite me for obstructing traffic at 54. “Please little foot… be strong and sure! Maintain that 55!”

My wife Lori and I “rock-paper-scissors” who gets to drop off Ashley each morning. We don’t mind dropping off Alec. Heck, I’ll carry Alyssa on my BACK to her school! Just DON’T make me have to go and face that NAZI at Ashley’s school.

So if you ever see me in the corner of my office, crouched in fetal position, sucking my thumb and mumbling, “Mama… mama…” you’ll know that I just dropped off Ashley.

Oh how I loathe that crosswalk lady!