Charge me triple for school supply fees. Ask me to buy hazmat suits for the class. Enlist me to be a volunteer bus monitor to make sure kids keep their masks on. Anything. Seriously, I will accommodate literally any request, as long as my kids can return to school and have a mostly normal life again.
Two weeks from now, we’ll be lined up outside the school. When it’s our kids’ turns to go inside, I know they’ll skip gaily through the propped-up door, swinging a gift bag for their teacher and thrilled to be inside their school again. I’ll move to the designated exit door to wait for them, and I’ll try to stop crying before they come out. I’ll try to stop myself from agonizing over the next time we’ll be back and what school will look like at that point.
Five and a half months. That’s how long our kids will be out of school, assuming things re-start in September — and a September start is the one true, beautiful thing I refuse to stop believing in, so don’t burst my bubble.