How long did it take?
Twenty FIVE minutes?
What WERE they doing putting on snow gear for a walk to the Arctic?
No, just getting dressed for school on a Monday morning.
I land up chivvying them and barking like some demented Border Collie with recalcitrant sheep and all I can say is sheep dogs the whole world over: R.E.S.P.E.C.T!
By the time I get downstairs to give them breakfast I am exhausted and ready to blow a fuse.
How on earth am I ever going to get these boys to GET A MOVE ON!?
It’s not just me who finds it exasperating Dear Charlie does and actually so does the headmaster at school who takes The Boy for hockey.
“Yes he does need to learn to focus and hurry up a little in the changing rooms,” he says to me smiling that tight little smile which means he’d really like to say a whole load of other things to me about how slow my son is in the changing department but politeness and the fact that I pay school fees means he’ll keep it to himself.
I wonder if there is a slowness to get dressed gene in the family but I can get up get dressed and breakfast in less than quarter of an hour so it can’t be me; and Charlie well he’s a morning bird. Perhaps my boys are throwbacks?
You know to that time when the family was extremely wealthy and you employed people to actually dress you in the morning. I can understand why this is appealing I would like that too but it ain’t going to solve the problem I’ve got now because the family, how shall I say it, is not as blessed as it once was, and anyway, in this day and age it would be a bit creepy.
I have tried bribery, it works but not for long and I’ve tried shouting. Perhaps it is time to say: “If you don’t get downstairs in the required amount of time there’s no breakfast!” or else I just get them up half an hour earlier….