Pack rats

 Spirit week. 

That glorious, zany week of harmless chaos manufactured by school administrators right before long breaks for the express purpose of proving to the dwindling percentage of the student body that participates that schools aren't just dress codes and drudgery all the time. Sometimes they are corny, too. 

Or at least that is how my eye-rolling children have always explained why they would not be indulging in Crazy Hair Friday or Dress Like A Twin Tuesday thank-you-very-much. 

This is why I was fully expecting my Socratic sophomore to "ghost" the festivities or declare the antics "bravado and buffoonery" and dust his hand of the entire week. 

I certainly did not have on my proverbial BINGO card the gangly teen showing up in the kitchen on the eve of "Anything But A Backpack" Wednesday, with sooty hands and all of his academic possessions tucked into the hollow of a full-sized winter snow tire asking matter-of-factly:

"Can you drive me to school tomorrow?"

"Can I ... " I hesitated, worried the rising question-mark lilt in my voice would betray excitement and tank the invitation. 

He knew it was risky. 

We would be traveling this holiday break, and this small chore could provide me with so many embarrassing ideas on how to pack for the epic trip our family had planned: Part homecoming, part holiday, part family reunion, we will come thousands of miles to finally be together for a vernal retreat. 

The plan is to go to the edge of the country by car, meet up with our globe-trotting college student at an airport, effectively sleep on the tarmac and then fly to the central south by plane the next day, where we intend to commune with more family and see all the sights we can by trolley (and possibly airboat) until we have to reverse engineer the whole thing and make our way back home.

My head was spinning. Omg. The drop-off line on Anything But A Backpack day would be epic. I can't believe he's allowing me to witness the madcap antics. 

It would only give me ideas I shouldn't consider. 

Kids toting everything from drinks coolers, mop buckets, waste bins on wheels; toy wagons, and trucks with storage under the seat to a literal kitchen sink. 

"Hey, who's the kid with the ottoman?"

My kid didn't answer. He had already "yoinked" the spare out of the back seat and "hulked"' it into the building. I barely got more than three blurry photos of the entire spectacle. 

Honestly, who wouldn't want to be a fly on the wall, buzzing around the school on a day like today?

If only to watch the kid who was scratching his head in the parking lot, and who likely hadn't fully planned the logistics of getting his books from class to class using his baby sister's Tiny Tikes Trike, find an elegant solution to his packing problems.

Which, of course, did.

"That kid was the GOAT, he just carried that purple three-wheel around all day like a psychopath..." laughed my son as he toted his tire toward the trunk.