Wednesday was my first ever foray into the pick-up line at Buzz’s school. Or any school, for that matter. I had been with my mom that day, so she happened to be along for the ride as well. It was obviously her first time in a pick-up line, too, and a learning experience for us both.
“I called his school earlier, to tell them I’m going to be there to get Buzz and to make sure I know where the pick-up line is”, I said to my mom in general conversation.
“They have a pick-up line?”, my mom wondered, astounded. Though I remember her picking me up at school long ago, this was now apparently a bizarre concept.
A short time later as we made the turn around the back of the school, we drove slowly past to make sure we were headed towards the correct exit. Noticing a few cars waiting in line, my mother asked, “Is that the pick-up window?”.
“It’s not a pick-up window, Mom. A pick-up line. He’s not an order of fast food”, as we laughed and pulled in place, rolling with what we had started.
“I’d like one Buzz to go, please.”
“Can I get fries with that?”
“And can you make sure there’s extra napkins? He’s kind of messy.”