Our mornings are scattered and frenzied, so when the boys opted to flip-flop the routine, I wasn't opposed. We're not exactly a well-oiled machine around here, so maybe an upturned schedule is what we need to make it out the door without mutual frustration. Maybe they're on to something.
Usually they must get dressed before they come down the stairs, but today we decided to start with breakfast. I laid out clothes on the coffee table, flipped the TV on to Dinosaur Train, set the timer to guide them, and reminded them to get dressed as soon as they finished their PopTarts and hot cocoa. The guideline: "Please be dressed by the time I come back downstairs."
Right. Sometimes my optimism gets the best of me.
It didn't happen that way. By the time I learned my lesson, we were running behind without time to recover. One thing remained consistent: I watched the clock and called out reminders and pulled out my hair and scooted them out the door.
I have read "there is no grace in hurrying." And yet I cannot seem to get my children to school without a large measure of both.
When Tyler and I arrived at his morning PreK, the classroom was dark. Oh, that's right: today is the dress rehearsal for Wednesday morning's Christmas pageant. We hung his coat in his cubby and put his boots on the shelf - that's when I realized he wasn't wearing any socks.
(It's two degrees in Denver today, and my son isn't wearing socks. I did not authorize this.)
With bare feet inside his shoes, we scuttled off to the auditorium. We found his classmates in the dressing room, an environment of controlled chaos as they all put on their costumes. The room abounded with cows, sheep, angels, and chickens.
Tyler found his costume: he is a wise man, complete with velvet robes; a braided, golden belt; and a bejeweled crown. As I helped him transform into the Magi, I learned that the missing socks were the least of our problem.
One wise man is commando this morning. (I did not authorize this.)
Tomorrow, we return to our regularly scheduled morning programming. Frenzied though it is, everyone makes it out the door wearing underwear. Generally.