Randomly Pulling Kids from School

I'm sitting here, struggling with an impulse to call ChowderGirl's school and have her dismissed so I can take her to a 12:30 showing of the Harry Potter movie. It's not just because she read all 7 books last year. And that she continues to haul 2-3 of them (in hardcover) to school with her every day.

It's because starting around 5th grade, my father pulled me from school once or twice a year to go mid-week skiing. The way I remember it, he would sort of taunt us. Because the biggest question was "Do you have any tests this week?" Well, he'd start asking in September. But the question became loaded when it snowed.

Because it meant that some day that week, our mom would wake us around 4 or 5AM, send us down to the already packed car. My dad would be sitting there, warming it up, chugging a Thermos of coffee. My brother and I would get in the backseat and go back to sleep.

It must have been the same time of year because we would wake around dawn, just when we pulled off the highway to get breakfast at some random McDonald's in New Hampshire. There's a stretch of Route 8 in Connecticut that looks just like the off ramp and whenever we go by there, I get this content feeling.

We'd ski all day and all that jazz. And I am sure we fought. I am sure my dad snapped at us. I am sure we were cranky. And annoying. And whiny. I also know there were times of great teamwork, sunshine, snow tans, ease, and skill. And I remember how shocking it was (that first time) to be pulled from school and how great it was to spend that day with my dad.

So I'm sitting here thinking about how much my daughter loves Harry Potter. And I'm going to go get her now.