I want to apologize for my children’s lateness today. You may have noticed that it has become a pattern with me, and I am deeply sorry for that. In my defense, however, I would like to share the various reasons that my kids have been late.
First, there’s getting dressed. My daughter has what they call, “sensory sensitivity.” Let me break down what that means when she is picking out clothes. You know those tags they have in some clothes? Or how about things like buttons or zippers? And what about the toe seam on socks? No, no, and nope. If they ever make a satin pull on onesie in a size small, I am jumping on it.
Then there’s the basics, like brushing teeth. Guess how long it takes for two six-year-olds in the same bathroom to brush their teeth. Guess. The answer is 2,000 hours.
Time for a hearty, agonizingly prolonged breakfast! My kids start eating breakfast at about 7am and stop right before we walk out the door at 9:15. I’m assuming you’re having them jog in place while doing math problems because I cannot understand why they need to store up before school each day.
So then, at about 9am, I start giving them warnings that we are going to be leaving soon. And I don’t do this in the form of a quiz so I can see what they get right. No, I say, “We are going to leave in ten minutes. Make sure you have all the food you need, any water you want to drink, your shoes on your feet, your jacket in hand, and your back pack on your back.” Now guess — after the same warning every two minutes till we leave — how many of these things are done before we are ready to walk out the door? The answer is -4. The negatives are for losing shoes you just had on and suddenly discovering that you have never been this thirsty in your life and there is no possible way you will make the seven-minute drive to school without getting a snack to bring in the car.
I hope you understand that I am trying my best, here. It may be that the answer is to set all the clocks an hour ahead and then sit in front of a cold, dark school for an hour before the janitor comes to open it up. I don’t know. But if we don’t get out shit in gear then I may be breaking out the winter camping gear and setting up camp in the playground every night.
Again, my apologies. These children are killing me.
(Photo: Angela Waye / Shutterstock)