How School Drop-Off is Grooming My Kids to be Paratroopers

Recently, we had a very rare unicorn of a day with no. Plans. NO PLANS.

Except for me.

I had plans for a little napaccino.

Maybe create a new and delightfully inappropriate gym playlist with all the Lils and Youngs, that I would inevitably enjoy interchangeably between both high adrenaline gym reps AND driving to Trader Joes for seasonal florals.

Oh, and to grab those little dark chocolate peanut butter cups. You know those? Joe impressed me with that concoction. 2008 Lil Wayne and I enjoy ourselves a milli a milli a milli a trip to Trader Joe’s together, too.

My squinting at all the inclusions of a Drake Throwback Spotify playlist was interrupted by the cutest little voice, when one of my favorite dudes hopped on my bed.

My son came in to ask me about this mythical thing he’d heard of: a kiss-n-go drop off at a neighboring elementary school.

“My friend says he has a kiss-n-go lane at his school! What is that?”

“Ohh. Yeah. It’s where kids get dropped off for school…but at YOUR school, it’s not called that. It’s more like a Fast Pass lane! Like at Disneyland, you know? Isn’t that fun?!”

I wasn’t selling it and had to put my thug-mom playlist away. I knew damn well our drop off situation wasn’t option A or B.

It was C.

Full on militant.

My kids will grow up with elementary school drop off memories that mirror military parachuters jumping out of helicopters.

We have a small commute to school, so if we hit the lights wrong-it’s pull up lane paratrooper time.

“Alright, guys! Are you boys ready? ARE YOU READY?”

Looking in my rearview, I can see both my boys crouched with their backpacks already on, Stanley water bottles swinging in hand.

“Okay, you have your homework? You have your lunches? When this car in front of us pulls away, we’re going to jump out. Just wait for the car to stop moving. Tie your shoes after you get in the gate. Okay, ready? Ready?”

My boys are a little crunched, but pull their backpack straps tightly and nod while they position themselves by the door, ceiling handle gripped.


And that was when one child asked me again if the kiss-n-go lane might be on the other side of the school.

“No, honey! This is public school! HOOAH!”

(Noteable: Shayne regularly yells, “Love you, sweeties!” out the window, which is dually efficient in being both loving and motivating…to run faster away from their car and into school.)

And that, my friends, is the reason we are getting up fifteen minutes earlier this semester. We’re trying to harness more of a Kiss-N-Go 2023 vibe instead infantry.

Although, I’m confident that the alternative may delight the military with pre-groomed Navy SEAL recruits.