I don't like being late for everything. I was one of those major dorks in high school (I know, you're surprised, right?) who was always early to class, reading a book at my desk instead of hanging out with my friends in the hall. I don't understand how we can have well over an hour to eat breakfast and get dressed, and still not make it out the door on time. Sometimes it takes us more than 30 minutes just to get everyone in shoes and jackets. How can it possibly take so long?
The second reason our tardiness bothers me is that next year Lizzy starts kindergarten. Her preschool teachers may not care if she is consistently late, but I'm pretty sure they take it more seriously when you get to "real" school. And kindergarten start an hour earlier. Are we going to have to get up at 5:00 am every day? I do not do mornings. Maybe we should home school, and just never leave the house again.
Yesterday we were close to being on time. That is to say, we were only five minutes beyond our optimal departure time. Lizzy was dragging her feet. I had to ask her multiple times to get on her shoes, find her backpack, etc. And yet, under the layer of annoyance and frustration I was feeling, I was secretly thrilled. The reason she dragged her feet? Her nose was buried deep in a book, and she wouldn't look up for it for any of the silly tasks I kept asking her to perform. My daughter can read! She can read silently, too, and that takes skill! I am still blown away by how amazing and smart she is. I love that she loves her books, and I have vivid memories of doing the same thing that caused my annoyance yesterday morning: dragging my feet and shutting out the world because I was involved in a book. I'm pretty sure I was a few years older before I started that, but what can I say? My daughter is smarter than I am. We all know that.
