Several times each week, I end up driving Emo Boy to school for some extra help in the mornings, which requires me to actually brush my hair, don sunglasses and hope nobody sees me en route. Even my dog-walking neighbor has learned to schedule his runs around my schedule, so says the fantasy dominatrix in my head.

Not that I know anyone I may run over into, but that’s beside the point, I’m only beautiful after 10am and several cups of coffee with Kahlua.

Its become a fun little ritual. We all wake up, I yell at tell everyone to get moving, they all hate love me, the 3 elementary kids go to school and then Emo Boy and I head out to battle school zones and drop him off early. Then, I head home the back way because a) there are less school zones that way b) I tend to forget what to do in those and c) this one crossing guard waves at me.

Without fail, no matter if its raining, snowing (jinx!), sunny or if I’m just in a pissy mood, I can count on this man to wave as I pass by each morning. It never fails to make me smile. I’ve done the hurried and harried wave back, the beaming smile (yeah, that wasn’t the best pre-coffee idea), the nod… because for a while, it felt weird that I enjoyed this encounter so much. But, you know what, that man is probably just as weirded out, and just as appreciative of a scary kind face so early in the morning. Or, he’s drunk, like me.

I kid.

So, I’ve been practicing my waves. I have done a pageant wave, the finger wiggle, the “OMG IT IS SO AWESOME TO SEE YOU” wave, the opposite handed, half-salute. They may all look the same to him, but I’m sure he gets it on some level. Plus, every time I wave and he waves, I think that somehow, somewhere, we are making a difference in the world through our hand gestures of adoration. I also refuse to acknowledge that he waves at all the other cars, too. I mean, why would he WANT to WAVE at other cars when I am dutifully embracing our cute little relationship?


Love your crossing guards, friends, you never know when you’ll need someone to blow a whistle and yell “STOP” to an oncoming parade of minivans and SUVs. And, if you can’t be with the crossing guard you love, love the one you’re with.


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