Sometimes a Pink Button is More Than a Pink Button

This morning began as most hectic pre work/school/coffee mornings do. The alarm began beeping. I rolled over to ignore it. One of the cats began rubbing my face and drooling. My daughter (who had snuck into my bed sometime during the night) let out a sigh. I got up and glared at J (who had no idea I was doing this since he was fast asleep or ignoring the alarm more successfully than I) and began the morning routine of getting myself up and ready, the kids up and ready, cats and kids fed, myself caffeineated and out the door. This morning, S began talking about wanting to bring a special pink button to school:

"Can I bring it to school mummy? I love it"

My response a distracted "ok."

Well, we got in the car and I must confess to tuning out S as she went on and on about her special pink button and how it came from her fall coat and how it had fallen off and she had found it. I was doing my best to avoid hitting those pedestrians that had just woken up or who were ready for bed (I love that turn around time of the morning). When we got to the daycare, S informed me that she had lost the button. "oh well sweetie, we'll find it after school." I hadn't really understood how important this button was. After finally coming out the car thinking I would search for it, she crumpled herself on the sidewalk in a state of abject misery worthy of a full scholarship to the national theatre school. I picked her up and carried her to the driveway. Well, my son A witnessed this display and wanted to be carried too. I said no. He took off his ball cap and threw it to the ground and shrieked like a seagull. Just at this time, an elderly gentleman came walking by, pointed to A and, like in the Simpsons, said 'ha ha ha.' This pissed A off more (and me too) and we all stalked rather miserably to the daycare door. Once inside, I informed the kids that no one was going to be carried up the stairs. This resulted in more wailing and carrying on. At least I wasn't playing favourites. 'A' recovered when we got to the top of the stairs. S, on the otherhand, first hid in a locker, than crumpled herself to the ground. I finally got her over the gate whereupon she threw herself on it and I watched as the tear soaked face slid down the plexiglass. I haven't yet mentioned that S now wears a patch over one eye in the mornings. That with her missing bottom teeth gives her a true pirate look. Imagine if you will the look of a miserable pirate squished to glass and you will have an understanding of how she looked.
When I got to the car, I realized that I would be late for work. So be it. When I get home tonight, I'm going to make sure to find that pink button.