It’s been over 15 years since I’ve waited in an elementary school carpool line.

Fifteen years of forgetting the highs and lows of being an impatient parent in the long, torturous tunnel known as the drop-off line.

Lots of movies poke fun at the people who monitor the school drop-off and pick-up lines. The guards are usually blowing a whistle, redirecting parents going the wrong way and smiling at the children.

They’re strict about which way cars drive, and parents better not even think about cutting the line, driving in on the out driveway or taking too long to drop off their darling.

Those are all infractions that can get your tires slashed and, worse, get you shunned by other parents in the drop-off line.

My two oldest boys liked riding the bus. I didn’t question my good fortune, but that luck ran out with the youngest child. He claimed he got car sick on the bus, so I had to take him and pick him up from school every single day.

So I got to be quite familiar with the unspoken rules of the drop-off and pick-up line.

First, no lollygagging. When your car pulls up to where a teacher is waiting, your child better be ready to jump out of that car, backpack zipped, and lunch box in their hand.

No last-minute hugs and kisses, no time to comb their hair one last time and definitely no time to tie their shoes.

Because if you do any of those things, you face the wrath of all the parents in the line behind you, and they can be a ravenous mob, especially as their coffee hasn’t kicked in yet.

Afternoon pick-up lines are bit more laid back. After all, when you pull up to the curb and the teacher on duty opens the door for your child, the cool jazz music you enjoyed while waiting in the line evaporates into a burst of “guess what we dids” and “guess who threw up on the floor” stories.

Or they’re crying because they lost their lunch money, somebody looked at them with the “stink eye,” they have way too much homework and everybody hates them.

That’s when you’d gladly go to the back of the pick-up line and wait all over again.

I thought about all those memories when I was dropping my grandchildren off at Huggins Elementary one morning. I was new to their system, but no worries. I was an old hand at the drop-off line etiquette.

People coming from the north had to merge with people coming from the south. Two long lines had to merge into one line which would then go past the curb where smiling fifth graders would help children out of the car.

“This’ll never work,” I thought. I could see where the north-bound lanes would think they were lined up correctly and so could the south-bound lanes.

But people were civilized and the cars merged just as they’re supposed to do on the driving training video. People pulled as far up as they could, and smiling fifth graders were right there opening the doors and children were jumping out, ready to face the day.

And then it was my turn.

I didn’t pull all the way up because I was too busy making sure everybody had their backpacks zipped up and their lunch boxes were securely closed. I gave last-minute kisses and affirmative directions to have a great day and keep smiling.

Then I realized I was letting my grandchildren out at the last spot at the drop-off lane instead of way up ahead where I was supposed to be.

I thought for sure whistles would sound and people would lay on their horns, but none of that happened.

Teachers and fifth graders smiled and waved as I drove off, and I didn’t feel as guilty as I would’ve 15 years ago for being the kink in the garden hose.

I’m glad to see forgiveness is there for “that” person in the school carpool line. Now I just hope nobody asks me to pick the kids up in the afternoon.

This column was originally published in The Fort Bend Herald.