You Stayed With Us

School Run Circus

Jennie's POV

If someone had told me years ago that my future mornings would involve wrangling four kids while running on two sips of coffee, I probably would've laughed. Now, I wasn't laughing — I was sweating.

It was the twins' first day of school, which meant Lisa and I had been up since before sunrise, already knee-deep in mismatched socks, toothpaste foam disasters, and cries of "I can't find my left shoe!"

Lisa was in our bedroom, crouched over Scarlett, who was now six months old and giggling like she thought getting her clothes changed was a comedy show.

"Why are you laughing, hm?!" Lisa tickled Scarlett's tummy, earning another squeal. "You think this is funny? You're about to be dragged to school drop-off of your siblings."

Meanwhile, I was on my knees in the twins' room, trying to convince Noah that yes, his shirt was supposed to be tucked in, and Nathan that no, socks don't belong on your hands.

Ella walked in holding her toothbrush like it was a dangerous weapon.

"Mom... is it okay to put this much toothpaste?"

I glanced at it — the brush was completely drowned in toothpaste like she was preparing to scrub a whole house.

"Ella! That's enough to brush a dinosaur's teeth. Half of that, please."

"But what if my teacher smells my breath and thinks I didn't brush?" she said, dead serious.

From the corner, Cooper padded in, tail wagging, clearly sensing the chaos. The twins instantly abandoned their shoes to smother him with hugs.
"Cooper, we're going to school today!" Nathan announced, squeezing him. "You wanna come?"

"No," I said immediately. "He's not—"

"I could take him for show-and-tell," Nathan interrupted. "He's cute and knows how to sit."

"No," I repeated, pointing to the socks still on his hands.

By the time we finally herded everyone toward the front door, Lisa had Scarlett in her arms, grinning smugly like her part of the morning had been easy.

"I don't know why you're stressed," she said. "I got her ready."

"Lisa, Scarlett doesn't wear shoes and can't ask me if she can bring the dog to school," I shot back.

Somehow, we managed to load into the Cadillac without losing anyone. Ella sat at the very back by the window, buckled in and already looking like a teenager. Noah sat beside her in his booster seat, legs swinging. Nathan and Scarlett were in the middle row — Nathan strapped in his booster seat, Scarlett's carrier car seat in the center.

I sank into the passenger seat, hair slightly frizzed, shirt untucked, feeling like a hurricane survivor. Lisa glanced over, smirked, and started the engine.

"You realize we look like we've been through a tornado, right?"

"That's because we have," I muttered.

Halfway down the street, Noah piped up from the back. "Do they have pancakes at school?"

"No," I said automatically.

"Why not?"

"It's not a pancake restaurant, Noah."

Nathan leaned forward in his seat. "But can I still bring Cooper for show-and-tell? He's really clean. He took a bath last week."

"Sweetheart," Lisa laughed, "unless your school lets dogs attend math class, Cooper's staying home."

Ella decided to join the conversation. "What if Max tries to trade snacks with me again? Last time he gave me seaweed for my cookie."