Hump Day

Lunchboxes and love notes.

Lunchboxes and love notes.

Who knew I could ever look forward to Wednesdays?  They've become special around our place though.  At least I've come to love them, though many parents of school-aged children despise them even more than the typical day between starting your week and winding it down.  The local school system threw a wrench in Wednesdays here:  they start an hour later.  For those needing to get to work and out of the house this presents the obvious challenges, but for our family, graced with a somewhat flexible work schedule, we get to have a lazy morning.  It is the morning between it all-- there is no rushing, there is sleeping in.  There is lots of love and pajamas, not frantic races through the morning meal.  I treasure it.  So do the kids.  Both of them in different ways.

Caroline uses the day to catch up on her sleep, taking an extra-long hot bath and cuddling up in my lap for a few moments longer than a Tuesday might allow.  She luxuriates in having me help her pick out her clothes (though her fashion sense trumps mine every day, I think she invites me in hopes I might improve my skills as a budding fashionista). 

For Sam, it is the best day of the week.  Every week, usually by Sunday, he asks if he can go to the before-school extended day program.  I hemmed and hawed at first when he suggested it-- an interruption to our pajama time and the elimination of any extra sleep he might get-- but now, I recognize what it is:  extra peer time playing the sports he doesn't seem to get enough of during our sometimes too-busy after school times.

Sam and I made a deal early-on about Wednesdays:  we trade our time.  It requires more of my time to drive him to school, returning with his sister who would rather eat worms than spend extra time in the chaos of that crazy gymnasium atmosphere, and then sticking her on the bus.  In exchange for my time driving, he makes his lunch.  And now, his sister's too. 

He doesn't just make them, assembling the same old stuff day after day like I do; he lovingly prepares them.  He thinks about what special thing Caroline might like this week, he assembles the food in an orderly, nearly artistic way, and he zips it up and places it in her backpack for her. 

This week, I caught him doing this:

I'm sure there are other 11 year old boys who place notes of love and wishes for a great day ahead in their sister's lunchboxes, but I just haven't heard of them.  Sam takes a mundane chore and transforms it into an act of love.  Thanks for being my teacher, buddy.  Thanks for making every hump day into a day that matters-- extra-ordinary every week. 

Happy Hump Day friends!  Do something with love today, it will matter.