Java De-icer

It was frosty this morning!

At the YMCA I overheard two moms apologizing to one another for their late arrival. With ice on the ground, carting kids and all their paraphernalia out the door was even more difficult than usual. To make matters worse, they had both forgotten they’d need to scrape their windshields.

I snickered to myself on the other side of the row of lockers. Partly because I know the drill, partly because I’m an eavesdropper and partly because they don’t know the trick I know—the ace-up-your-sleeve that will rescue you when time is running out; the quick fix that will befuddle all the other windshield scraping moms on your street; the trick revealed to me by my dear friend Kristie.

On a frosty morning, such as this one, Kristie was running behind. If it were a ballet we might have called it “Departure Adagio” (Slow Departure). Balancing a baby on her hip and a thermos of coffee in her other hand she swirled and twirled in and among her daughters. She tossed hats and scarves hither and nigh with her free pinkie all while maintaining the balance, poise, and grace, of a dancer—because she is one.

The daily Departure Adagio dance was practically choreographed by this point in the school year. Out the door, and into the van they flitted until the dance came to a screeching halt.

Three millimeters of frosty crystals adorned the windshield.

Show stopper!!

With mere minutes before the ominous school-bell, Kristie had to make a decision--drive blindly, or scrape and be late. But in that instant inspiration was born anew. She threw open the van door, gazed wistfully at her coffee thermos, removed the lid and dumped that entire thermos of steaming coffee on the windshield.

Voila!!

Java de-icer! 

With a mostly clear windshield, they beat the school bell, and Kristie hurried home to brew another cup.

And since I couldn’t tell that story to the two moms without betraying my eavesdropping, I decided to tell it to you.