Oh. God.

Getting my son out the door for school in the morning is absolutely AWFUL. I'd like to take this opportunity to apologize publicly to my mother and father for all those years of being a complete pain in the in ass in the morning before school. My wakeup call would come at 6:15, with the bus showing up at 7:30. Plenty of time to get ready, eat breakfast, get my shit together and out the door.

No.

I remember my dad busting in, pulling up the shades, threatening me with anything he could think of.

I'm still that way. I HATE MORNINGS. I can completely relate to my son who would rather stay up late and sleep in. I can truly sympathize with him, but damn. We have to be out the door at 7:55 to beat traffic, secure a place in the "car line" at school, unpack the back pack, etc.

This morning was worse than usual. The Bug must still be on Hawaii time. I put him to bed at 8:30 last night and he was still up, trying to play with his toys at 10:30. You can imagine 7:15 this morning came awfully early for both of us.

When I finally got him to school - after fights about the following things (not getting to wear pajamas to school, the shirt I picked out, the shoes, the socks, the car seat, the car, the backpack, the cup, the cup he threw that I wouldn't retrieve for him, the parking lot, the tree, the price of tea in China among about 234289 other things) - we walked up to his teacher.

And God bless this woman. She sweetly said, "Oh, hi Bug! It looks like you are having a hard morning. Come on, Friend, let's go play together".

My child wiped his tears. Gave me a hug and kiss and headed out to play with his buddies.

Every. Single. Morning. Until. He's. 18.

I just know it. I'm getting paid back, I can feel it ...

Labels: herding cats, the bug, waking dead