My Kryptonite

It happened again today. My normally in-control mind was rendered helpless by my own personal Kryptonite: dawdling children.

I sound like Eliza Jane from The Little House on the Prairie, don't I? Who uses the word "dawdling" nowadays anyway?

But seriously, there are a finite number of minutes to get everyone awake, dressed, fed and ready for school, get them to school, and get myself to work. (And, no, getting up early doesn't increase the amount of time available for preparation; it increases the amount of dawdle-time).

I understand the problem: preparing for school is the least interesting thing for a child. The spray made by fanning toothbrush bristles with your thumb is interesting. The crunch of the snow under your feet is interesting. The long stick with the peeling white bark is interesting. Writing on the scum covering the car with your fingers is interesting. The little boy with the glasses standing near the door is interesting.

Mom's constant reminders she'll be late for work are ultra boring.

So sometimes, I crack. My son got quite an earful at school today when he JUST WOULDN'T FINISH UP. He was shocked at my outburst. It happened in front of his friend, who luckily couldn't understand my English, but certainly understood my tone.

In my defense, my son woke me twice last night and his sister woke me once, meaning I got a total of maybe five hours of sleep. And I give warnings all the time. They know very well why I need to be at work by eight.

Does anyone else have a personal Kryptonite? Something that whittles away at their physical or mental control? I'd love to know I'm not alone.

Love it even more if you can come up with an antidote.