Failure to Launch

Friday morning, our plan was for Jude to take J.P. to daycare ("school") at 9 a.m. and I'd pick him up that afternoon, at 2:30 p.m.  I left for work early that morning and Jude got him ready for school.  What follows is a true story and the names have not been changed to protect the innocent (a tip of the hat to "Dragnet" is in order here, I think).

Anyway, as she was bustling around, Jude mentioned to J.P. something about school.  He immediately started whining and vocalizing to Jude the fact that he had not intention of going to school.  As she related to me later, it was kind of funny, because he started saying "Bongo, please" (meaning he wanted to go to Bongo Java).  Then, he said, "Belmont, please," and "Monkey, please" (Frothy Monkey).  Finally, he started touching his neck and saying his version of "body of Christ," which he's picked up from church when we take communion.  "Church, please," was his parting shot.

On the short drive to West End United Methodist Church, J.P. started crying.  He really, really didn't want to go to daycare.  When they arrived, parked Jude's Honda Pilot, and walked into the building, J.P. continued to cry.  He fell apart when they walked into his classroom and put his lunch in the refrigerator and his bag in a cubbyhole.  "Miss Gina" took him from Jude and she slipped out the door, J.P. crying behind her.

Jude was about a block away, when her cell phone rang.  She answered it.  It was "Miss Gina," calling to tell her that J.P. had vomited all over her and the floor, as a result of which Jude would need to come pick him up.  Jude turned around and went back to the church to get him.  As she was leaving, J.P. in her arms, he happily chattered "bye, bye, Ms. Gina."  Jude could only laugh.

She took the day off work and spent it at home with J.P.  A win-win for everyone, I think.