Rock Star

I have an idea of what it feels like to be a rock star.

I carefully balanced 3 boxes of mini ice cream cones between my arms and my chin, with my purse slung onto my shoulder, car keys in hand and a paper bag full of individually bagged homemade brownies hanging off one finger. Luck was with me when a teacher opened the door for me and screams and squeals erupted as I walked inside. Nineteen five year olds and one six year old jumped up, hopping up and down all the while screaming about ice cream. Who says kinders can't read?

Jack's class was no less enthusiastic.

Boy was it worth it. Worth the money, the drive, and the time away from work to see milky mustaches and brownie crumbed smiles.