I haven’t been writing about the household angels lately, so I’ll give you one and you can decide.
Kiddo2 had her violin lesson in the next town over at 4:30. I like to leave 20 minutes for the drive, but as you can imagine, with trying to load everyone into the car, it can get hairy. This time, as I was buckling Kiddo4 into his car seat, I glanced at the clock and it said 4:12. Late.
As I shut the door, I had a thought: the batteries were going to run out in my Kobo. I should go upstairs and grab a print book.
I hesitated. But I’d charged the thing recently, and we were running late, so I figured it would be okay.
The thought nagged at me. I thought, no, that’s ridiculous. The thing has enough battery life for half an hour, and most of the time the boys won’t even let me read while we’re waiting because they want to play with me.
I got in the car, and as I backed out of the garage, I felt a really strong thought: run upstairs and get my knitting.
I hesitated again, but then decided no. We were late. I was already in the car. It was just catering to my neurotic tendencies to run upstairs and grab something in case the battery died. I thought, Well the worst that could happen is I’ll just have to suck it up and interact with my kids like a normal mother.
We took off. We got there with a few minutes to spare, and we settled in at the waiting area.
And ten minutes later, I went in search of the violin instructor, who was nowhere to be found. I located the music school owner, who said, “Oh, I just got a text from her. She’s stuck in horrible traffic. Didn’t she call you?”
I piled everyone back into the car, and we went home. I checked messages, and there’s a call from the violin instructor.
When? At 4:12.
Granted, I don’t know how the car clock synchs to the phone clock. But maybe sometimes “Your battery might die — go get a book” translates to “You need to be upstairs so you get this phone call.”
(PS: The battery lasted through the rest of that book.)