10 January 2012

How Do They Know?

My kids, like most children their ages, generally hit the ground running.  Charlie's Time To Wake Alarm Clock turns green at 7:15 and you can bet that by 7:17 someone is next to my bed already in tears about breakfast cereal.  Everyone herds downstairs, I pour cereal and I barely have the milk back in the fridge by the time they have lost interest and scampered off to play.  (And by "play" I mean "fight over toys and cry.")

Unless of course we have somewhere to be.

This morning we were going to their first yoga class.  It starts at 9:15 which given the "base factor*" meant we needed to be out the door by say 8:45/8:50.  So what happens?  They come into my room, crawl in bed cuddle up and demand a cartoon before breakfast.  Forty-five minutes later they stroll downstairs and eat a leisurely two bowls of cereal (each!) followed by much relaxation and calm putting on of clothes at a speed best compared to that of glaciers.  A veritable poster-morning for relaxed bliss...

...unless you were inside my head.

There you would have heard the frantic hyena-like screams of  "for the love of all that is holy why can't you two just get out the freaking door.  This is not even for me.  I will not beg you to go to this class.  Ieeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Now I get it, I love to stick it to the man.  My own oppositional disorder is world renowned, but how do they know?  I mean it is one thing when I say the night before "we have to go to the doctor's" and therefore they drag their feet because, well heck, you never know if a shot is waiting at the far end.  It is a whole other kettle of fish when they just sense that today, of all days, your attempts to get them out the door are particularly time-sensitive. 

Dude, that is just plain black magic.  Nothing else to it.

*"The Base Factor" applies anytime you have to go the base and do something.  You must leave insanely early.  That way you hit no traffic, sail through the checkpoints, find a close parking spot and arrive to your appointment 30 minutes early with bored kids to entertain.  Heaven forbid you leave a minute later.  Then you enjoy rush hour traffic (regardless of time of day),  get the full security car search after waiting behind a lost retiree for 5 minutes, have to park in Alaska and arrive five minutes late with frazzled tantrum-prone children. 


Ginger said...

THIS. This times a million. It is only on daycare days that J seems to sleep in. It's only on days that I get to sleep in that he's up at 5 am. It's only when we have somewhere to GO that he wants to cuddle in bed. It's only when we have nowhere to be that he'd rather move/go/do. GAH. KIDS.