Don't Go Extinct

I was in a meeting at work when I got the call.  When it rang, I looked at my phone and saw it was from the kids’ school.  Oh, no.  Anytime I get this call, I immediately think about how the kids looked and felt when we sent them to school that morning and then think of all the bad things about which school might be calling.  Ella wasn’t sick – did she fall and get hurt?  Is she now complaining that she doesn’t feel well?  Cal had a minor rash, which we’ve come to learn is how colds manifest themselves in him.  Was that rash getting worse?  Did he not feel well?  What train would I catch to get home?  Would I need to call the doctor and get my sick kid in that night?  Would I need to take a PTO day tomorrow to care for my sick child and work while said child slept?  Please let it be Cal – he’s just a much better sick kid.

“Hello?”  I answered the phone.

“Hi, Carla, it’s Ally,” said the voice on the other side.

Ah, it’s about Cal.  Things are looking up already. I don’t know if I even said anything, and she continued.

“Don’t worry, everything’s fine,” she started.  Every call that I get from the kids’ school that isn’t for the purpose of delivering bad (sick/hurt) news starts this way.  I like it.

She then proceeded to tell me that she had received a “certificate” in the mail for Cal and asked me, “Did Cal enter some kind of contest with Metra?”

“He did!” It was so long ago, I had almost forgotten about it.

Cal did forget about it.  When Ally asked him what it was for, he told her he didn’t know.  Ally continued, “They sent me a certificate of participation.  That’s really cool.  I didn’t know anything about this!”

I explained what I could remember of the contest (what it was for, when we entered, that the entry asked for school/teacher information), all the while wondering if she had also gotten any notice of how he finished in the contest, i.e. whether he had won anything.  I hesitated to ask, only because I didn’t want to put a damper in her excitement over his mere participation in it; but I was curious and eventually asked her, “So, this is just a certificate of participation, not that he won anything?”  Goodness.  Using the word “just” in my question made me sound disappointed with too-high expectations.  To clarify, I wasn’t disappointed; but I do have high expectations.  Cal can draw very well for a 5-year-old.

Ally then told me that it didn’t say anything about him winning anything.  I told her I’d find the picture he drew for the contest and bring it in.  And I did.

A few days later, I got the same call from school and had the same feelings of dread that I usually do when I see the number.  I reluctantly answered it.  It was Ally again.

“Hi, Carla.  Don’t worry, everything’s fine,” she started.  Relief.  “Cal won third place in the Metra contest!” she relayed, once again really excited about it.

“What?!?!!” I exclaimed, as a huge smile planted itself on my face.  I then rattled off another explanation of the contest, that they use the drawings for their tickets and other posters and told her I’d get her the details of it so her whole class can participate next year.

Cal's Participant's Certificate and Entry into Metra's Poster Contest,
displayed on his classroom door

It turns out, Cal did win third place in the Kindergarten age group with his entry titled “Don’t Go Extinct” followed by the mandatory words “Look Listen Live.”  It was a perfect mix of dinosaurs and trains.  He won $100 for it.  When I asked him what he wanted to do with his $100, he told me -- and I’m not making this up -- that he was going to save it so that he could buy a car when he gets older.

When Cal told Ally his plans for his winnings, Ally said, “I’m sorry, no 5-year-old says that.”  Of course, she knows that our 5-year-old does.