I'm supposed to get to my desk by 8am. This is not a strict start time by any means, but it is definitely what I shoot for. I am 5 minutes late almost every single day. And I blame that damn mouse, because clearly it couldn't be my fault. Mickey and his band of merry problem solvers don't solve their problem until 7:24 every morning. And then, after they solve whatever wacky thing happened that day, they have to do a "Hot Dog Dance" because they are just so darn excited about their impressive feat. And Alex cannot leave without witnessing this glorious celebration. Which then puts us out the door at 7:26. Figure in the ridiculous amount of time it takes to get a 3 year old in a car seat and we are rarely leaving the driveway before 7:30. Now this departure time would be fine if I was able to launch him from the moving car accurately enough to get him through the door of day care safely. Alas, I am not that talented, so I am late. Every morning.
And then there are mornings like today. Mornings where all the problem solving and hot dog dancing in the world doesn't make this child ready to leave. Usually there is a lot of crying and whining and why'ing. This morning, he just straight up told me he wasn't coming with. So, I said Ok and headed for the door. And he collapsed on the floor. Let Operation Whining Army Crawl commence! This one took an extra long time because it started in the living room. But, he finally made it outside with me.
We got to the garage when he announced he forgot something and had to go back in the house. That's his new thing..."forgetting" things.
Alex, why are you standing in front of the open refrigerator door? I forgot something in here.
Alex, why aren't you laying down for a nap? I forgot something in my playroom.
Alex, why aren't you coming home with me from the neighbor's yard? I forgot something there.
It's a good thing I haven't forgotten that it isn't acceptable to leave your child unattended for 8 hours.
In an effort to move things along this morning, I played along and back to the house we went. And then my patience quickly vanished. Had he just had something in mind to grab, I would have been fine. But no. He just stood there, looking around and saying Ummmmm. So I picked him up, grabbed a couple cars and headed to the garage with a screaming angry bundle of Alex on my hip. Normally I let him climb in the truck from the driver's door and make his way back to his seat, which I realize is part of why it takes so long for him to get in his seat. Shut it. I promptly informed him he had lost that privilege this morning. Which lead to more tears and a straight steel bar child that refused to bend at the waist and sit in his seat. And that caused said child to slide down the front of his seat and scrape his back. Which turned into an injured child that needed soothing. But the one that needs soothing is willing to sit in his seat after a couple hugs, so we were good to go.
I was still flustered and expressed my sarcastic shock at the fact that I was going to be late to work. About half way to day care, Alex says in a sweet little voice, "Why are you late for work Mama?"
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