Running Late

Lily was late for school today. Late, for the first time ever.

It’s not that I give a shit about a perfect arrival record in the least, (I think you all know me well enough to know that,) it’s just that I’m always early. Always, for everything. I have been for as long as I can remember. We’re always the first ones at parties and I’m always sitting in waiting rooms longer than anyone else. It’s a bad character flaw and I keep waiting to swap in it for a different one. But, it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.

Except, today, I slept until seven o’clock instead of my usual five o’clock hour and the whole morning routine was shot to hell. I had exactly an hour to get three lunches made and packed, three children out of bed, dressed, fed and brushed, one dog walked, one homework checked, not to mention making myself half-way presentable. It seemed impossible.

So, I sat my ass down on the computer and read my e-mails. I let the children sleep while I made their lunches. I stirred hot oatmeal for myself. I simply accepted the fact that we would be late as inevitable and made no effort to make up for lost time. There was no hollering, from any of us. It was… absolutely liberating.

She ended up being only about ten minutes late, and I don’t think anyone even noticed with all the flying hats and coats and mad rush to the lockers.

So, is this how the rest of the world lives?

OK, I’m in.