Sad, sad news

We got a note home from Brennan's teacher last week asking us to send her a quick note to let her know if one of us would like to serve as a homeroom parent. After reviewing both mine and Chris's commitments to the school this year, I decided we would have to decline the offer of home room parent responsibilities, not only for Brennan's class, but Aidans as well.

(Yes. I declined. I said No. I opted NOT to take on an additional volunteer position. This is a pretty significant development in my growth as a parent to a school age child. Just a few years ago, I would have ended up as a homeroom mother to both boys' classes. It's a victory of sorts.)

Aidan and Brennan were both a bit disappointed that I wasn't going to sign up, but when I explained to them that I had already agreed to help out in a whole lot of other ways, they seemed pacified.

Fast forward to Monday. I am putting Brennan to bed. He leans over me, catches my face with both his hands and looks at me seriously with the biggest and saddest brown eyes I have ever seen.

"Momma?" He says with a serious frown face. "I have sad, really sad, sad news to tell you."

"What? You do?" I ask, a bit bewildered at Brennan's serious side. He is normally joy in a bottle, bouncing in place from the sheer effort it takes to remain still for more than a second.

"Yes. This is very sad news Momma." He takes a deep breath and peers into my eyes. "You were not picked to be my homeroom parent."

"What?" I ask, a little confused.

"I know Momma. It is very, very sad. But you weren't picked. Other mom's got it. I am so sorry Momma." His hand moves from the side of my face to grab my hand and give it a squeeze.

"But, Brennan. I didn't say I wanted to be a homeroom mom..."

He cuts me off. "It's okay Momma. I am sad too."

"No, B. I never told your teacher that I was going to be a homeroom parent for your grade."

"You didn't tell her, but I did. I told her to pick you." Brennan proclaims sadly with a shake of his head, "But you weren't even picked." He gives a big sigh. "It's so sad. My teacher picked 'em out of a hat and our name wasn't picked."

"This is really, really sad. Are you sad Momma?" Brennan asks, sorrowful.

Yes, I'm sad. I'm sad that my six year old is trying to rope me into more volunteerism without my knowledge. I finally have my own impulses under control, now I need to worry about my children. Let's just hope they don't sign us up for any parking lot duties anytime soon.