I don’t know why but every morning is a race to get ready for my little ones.
My 14 year old doesn’t play. She moves real slow in the morning no matter what, like if a glacier and a zombie had a baby who had a broken leg.
Anyway, the contest is quite competitive. I’ve even had to outlaw the little ones from sleeping in their uniforms because kids were hopping out of bed, putting their feet in their shoes and declaring themselves the champions of the universe (which comes with an accompanying “champion of the universe” dance.) But the boy who I call “Action figure” because I always call the girl “dolls” and he doesn’t want to be a doll, ran around and got himself ready fast this morning. He even found his sweater. He never can find his sweater. He brushed his teeth, he wet down his cowlick, zipped his pants, and presented himself to me. “Dad, I’m all ready!!! First one!!!” (Cue the champion of the universe dance.”)
“Uhm Action figure” I said. “There’s one problem.”
“What,” he said. “I combed my hair. I brushed my teeth (insert wide smile), my socks even match.”
“Today’s gym day.”
Oh.
He stood there deflated, defeated. With all the days off from snow he lost track of the days. He looked up at me and said, “I don’t know whether I’m happy that it’s gym day or sad that I lost.”
The 14 year old, still in her pajamas, saw this and announced, “Everyone listen up, Action figure is the winner today. Even though he has to change he’s the technical winner today.”
Everyone agreed. The boy smiled and ran off to find his gym uniform.
Quietly, the six year old presented herself to me fully dressed and silently did the champion of the universe dance.
