The Morning Hustle

I think there is not a parent alive today who does not understand the difficulty of the morning hustle out the door.  In fact, there has probably never been, I mean in the history of the world, a parent who does not understand the unique irritation of Preschool Putz when trying to make it to the earliest engagement of the day.  I imagine the dads of the Upper Paleolithic era had several mornings with one foot out the cave, looking back and yelling to their sons to grab their spear and come NOW to get a jump on the best large game.  The son of course would yell back that he can’t FIND his spear, to which the dad would reply that it should be right where he LEFT it after the LAST large game hunt, and then the son would go looking and become distracted by the cave drawing he was working on yesterday.

In my house, we have a problem of figuring out priorities.  I can yell “we’re leaving in 10 minutes!” and then find Ellen wearing only underwear, furiously kneading some Play Doh and saying, “I KNOW Mom, that’s why I’m HURRYING to finish this Play Doh dog!”

After fighting this losing battle many times, I have determined that I can’t decide for Ellen what needs to get done in the morning for her to have a successful day (besides the obvious things like getting dressed, brushing teeth, and having breakfast).  My solution is to get her up a looong time before we have to leave, so that she has plenty of time for all the important stuff, like dressing her American Girl doll, making animal sculptures out of Play Doh, and packing her backpack for the overnight at Grammy and Papa’s which is happening five days later. 

If I have fewer moments to myself before the action starts in the morning, I have in exchange a peaceful and unhurried exodus.  At least until Cecilia dumps her cereal on the floor.