Wednesday, January 30, 2013

hold the phone.

Robs is my pirate who refuses to be hurried. On a routine day we leave for school at five after nine. But over the last two weeks I noticed Robs (for several days in a row) wait until nine o' clock to get ready. I'd ask. I'd request. I'd remind. I'd inform... but none of it worked. Robs got ready when she felt like getting ready - which happened to be nine o' clock. And every day when I'd drop her off at school (three minutes after the bell) and watch as she'd meander to the front door and then turn to blow me a kiss, not a care in the world.

We had a couple conversations about being late to school - and how we're expected to be on time, but I didn't notice any change in her dilatory trends. (Deductive reasoning lead me to believe the result was a product of selective listening.) So one day at eight fifteen I pointed to the clock. "Robs," I said, "when this clock says eight fifteen we get ready." She agreed.

Yesterday at eight fifteen Robs got ready. Erikboy got ready. And Squish brought me the clothes she planned on wearing. We had breakfast. We finished homework. We packed a lunch and got ready to go with plenty o' time to spare. In the middle of playing beads, Erikboy asked if Robs was going to school that day. I looked at my watch and told him they had seven minutes before we had to leave for school. We got to school on time. Robs meandered in with time to spare. We ran errands and had everything on our To-Do list done by eleven. It was ideal... I don't know why I didn't try it sooner. 

Seriously. This motherin' thing... 

1 comment:

  1. I'm going to try that next week. Cuz my little draggy mcdraggerson is makin' me crazy. I kinda wish she would get reprimanded for being late... I think one stern word from her teacher would fix the problem, after all, I'm just mom. What do I know about being on time...