Late Again

The school day begins at 9am every weekday. So why is it that we pull into the carpark at 9:02 four mornings out of five? I can’t work it out.

It’s not 12 year old Sluggie’s fault. He’s ready by 8:10 every morning, having completed half an hour’s piano practice. His incentive is 30 minutes on the PS3. MissChief (10) isn’t often to blame. She doesn’t usually finish piano before school, but she is ready in time even if she does spend fifteen minutes doing her hair.

Goldilocks (8) is easily distracted, it’s true, and takes much reminding. Take this morning:
            ‘Don’t you want your lunch today?
            ‘Huh?’
            ‘Your lunch, it’s on the bench.’
            ‘Oh. Where’s my bag?’
So that adds a couple of minutes most mornings, discovering what it is Goldilocks has left behind. But she does get herself mostly ready in time.

And then there’s The Cute One (4). Three mornings a week I can’t blame her, because it doesn’t matter what state she’s in when we leave. She doesn’t have preschool Wednesday to Friday so she can hop in the car unfed and pyjama-clad with hair housing a family of mice for all I care. But Monday and Tuesday are another matter. She doesn’t get it, that she is responsible for getting herself ready. She’s four, so maybe she doesn’t need to, I don’t know. You’d think having four children I’d have worked it out by now, but I can’t remember what is age-appropriate. And anyway, just because a behaviour is age-appropriate doesn’t mean she’ll do it.

I use various strategies.

• ‘Eat breakfast now or take it to preschool.’ She has been known to eat porridge for morning tea at playgroup, so she knows I’m serious.
• ‘Get dressed now or in the carpark.’ Yep, followed through on that one with her a couple of times when necessary. Even Sluggie remembers pulling his shorts on while hiding behind the car door a few years ago.
• ‘I’m going to scream and yell until you do what you’re supposed to.’ Aaah, not so successful this one. Might need to rethink it.
• I feed her, I dress her, I pack her bag. Bah-bow. This means I am entrenching patterns of negative behaviour, ensuring they last even longer.
• Here’s a good one: If I got in the car at 8:45 it would only take a few days for her to catch on that this is when we leave. Slight problem though.

You’ve probably worked out whose fault it is that we’re late every morning. That would be me. Moi. I admit it. It’s not that I stuff around. Really. Sluggie has convinced me that Facebooking before school is a dumb idea, so I don’t do it anymore. But somehow I’m still making sandwiches at 8:52. Why is that? Anyone? 

Perhaps I need someone trailing me all morning, pointing out where I waste time. Like a fitness trainer, but different. Maybe an ontimeness trainer.

            ‘Ah, you said you were just checking the weather, but now you’re reading emails. Tut tut.’
            ‘Do you really need to fold the washing while you’re choosing what to wear today? Think woman think!’
            ‘Maybe you should make the kids’ lunches before stacking the dishwasher. Work it out, you can do it.’
            ‘Come on! It’s 8:37! You’re on a deadline here. Let’s go, go, go!’

This could be the next big thing in Competitive Reality TV Land, don’t you think? We could call it Beat the Clock, or Out of Time, or Get the Kids to School on Time or Get in Big Trouble, or something else. Any volunteers?