The Hidden Benefits Of Walking To School

Last night I laid down the law. Now that it's March and getting warmer, I will no longer be driving Big Man and Little Man to school. From this moment on, it is their responsibility to get themselves out of the house and walk the half mile each morning. Mom's car service is closed for the season.

Today, as dawn broke and the birds chirped, I awoke a little cheerier. Because I knew we would be spared our usual maddening routine.

The one where I keep prodding them to get out of the house. The one where after I've said repeatedly, "Let's go!" I find Big Man sitting in his room staring into space in his bare feet. The one where I storm outside in my coat-covered pajamas and sit in the car waiting for him to drag his butt out while laying on the horn fuming, "Tomorrow, I don't care how fucking cold it is, you're gonna walk!"

Now, Little Man, bless his heart, usually manages to get into the car on time. Sometimes he even gets in before me. Probably because he's scarred for life over the way I rip Big Man a new asshole some mornings.

You see once Big Man finally slinks into the car, eyes down and shoulders slumped, I am no longer in the driver's seat. Satan has replaced me at the wheel. A volcano of poison spews from His mouth for what seems an eternity. Then comes deafening silence save for the popping and screeching of His head as it spins and my head reappears just in time to pull over near the crossing guard where Big Man and Little Man scurry frantically out.

I drive home with a neck ache feeling completely crappy about the way I blew up all the while knowing it's my fault because I don't make it their responsibility to get out of the house on time.

But not any more. The insanity stops this morning. Big Man and Little Man are now expected to get themselves to school.

I brace myself for a million excuses from Big Man. Miraculously he seems to be on schedule for an on-time departure. But much to my surprise, Little Man hobbles down the hall telling me he can't put any pressure on his leg. And at 7:40, when he should be fully dressed and out the door, I find him sitting on the couch still in his robe.

Little Man. What are you kidding me? Do you think I'm new? Besides, do you really want to be driven to school by the devil?

I reassure him that he probably pulled a muscle at hockey practice last night and the best way to make his leg feel better is to stretch it out by walking. To school.

Finally he gets ready. He hobbles down the front steps, gives me one last forlorn look, then makes his way down our street with a jerky limp looking like he's been suddenly afflicted with St. Vitus's dance.

Five minutes later he texts me:

"Im nedver gona mak it"

I text back:

"U can do it! Keep moving!"

After school, Big Man makes it home first. Then Little Man rounds the corner. Miracle of miracles! He's no longer limping! He's been healed! A shining example of the many health benefits of walking to school. Not to mention the psychological ones. Theirs and mine.