one of the side benefits of being a SAHM is the fact that i get to witness random moments in my kids’ lives that will probably stay with me forever, even if they stay with my kids only for a few seconds.

every day, i deliver BC to her school and jools to his. (in two weeks, jools will start at the montessori program at BC’s school. there will be much rejoicing as i finally am slave to only one primary schedule and only have to venture to one school. of course, i am kidding myself, as soon, they will both be old enough to have activities in separate parts of the universe, and i will become one of those moms-from-hell who schlep their kids around like truckers schlepping produce.)

but in the meantime, i drop jools off at his school, where he cries for me to not leave and my heart breaks and breaks and breaks again. BS tells me that i should just go, as jools knows i will stay as long as he is upset. and eventually, i do. but it is too difficult for me to just dump my crying three-year-old and run. maybe BS could dump and run. i cannot.

then, i take madame BC to her elementary school. she has to wait on line in the gym with her class until a teacher comes to pick them up and deliver them. though school starts at 9 a.m., BC is terrified that if she is not on line, she will be marked absent, even if i deliver her directly to her classroom door at 9 a.m. so we go. and we stand. and we wait. usually, we wait with her buddy colleen, who, i am quite sure, is actually a 29 year old in a little-kid suit. but today, it was just me and missus.

now, every day, in the class line next to hers, there’s a little boy named william. he looks like a little norman rockwell boy, except instead of red hair and freckles, he has very light blond hair. he hangs with nate, a very quiet and artistic boy who was in BC’s kinder class. william freaks out whenever he sees BC, like she is some sort of godfather who he knows has put a contract out on him. (this is the face of a seven year old boy’s crush, methinks.) this morning, as BC and i were walking into school, a station wagon passed us. i saw william’s face hanging out the open window; and as he glimped BC, i heard him shriek.

so when william joined his line, he started squirming like he had itching powder in his pants. “oh no!” he yelped at nate. “there SHE is! she’s STARING at me!” they ran into the bathroom together, then ran out, then continued to shriek and moan.

cut to BC. she is sitting, legs stretched out before her, facing the boys. she has a bemused look on her face, much like the look charlie watts has as he looks on at mick and keith while they’re doing something idiotic or outlandish. all the while, he keeps a steady beat. she looks like a queen to me – i’m her mom, of course – but i think she’s drop-dead gorgeous, regardless of how messy her hair might be that day (with the four rasta beaded braids she has refused to remove for two weeks) or how far her two front teeth may stray pre-braces. i bend down to talk to her quietly.

“welcome to the magical world of seven year old boys,” i tell her. she smiles knowingly. “i don’t know how to break it to you, buzz, but they don’t change all that much when they’re 40.”

“i know,” she says, omnisciently. the boys continue acting out, and she continues to sit there and grin.

there are days when i think that she has been here before, years and years ago. today is one of those days.