dianaschnuth

As usual, I overslept.

My son knocked on the bathroom door while I was having my morning constitutional. Of course, I let him come in, because he’s four, and because I knew he didn’t actually have to use the bathroom himself, because he wore a pull-up last night.

Having an audience didn’t exactly make my morning routine any speedier, especially since I’ve been charged by his dentist with making sure he brushes his teeth properly both morning and night. That adds another few minutes. Add onto that the discovery that he’d leaked out of his pull-up and onto his bedsheets, and we were getting down to the wire.

Not that I had any chance in hell of getting to work on time at that point, of course.

Breakfast — his, not mine — was rushed, although he did an excellent job of eating while watching YouTube on his iPhone. Sometimes he gets super involved in the videos and forgets to eat. (It’s one of our old phones, with a broken sleep button, and we let him use it for apps.)

Headed back upstairs, only to realize that his mattress pad had still been damp with pee when I put the new sheets on.

I don’t have time for this.

Threw an old burp cloth over the spot that had crept through the clean fitted, read him a very short book, sang him a very short song, and kissed him goodbye. Bounded down the stairs, threw on my shoes and my jacket, snatched up my purse and keys, stepped into the garage, hit the garage door opener, climbed in the new car, stuck the switchblade key in the ignition, let’s get going. Threw it in reverse. On my way.

CRUUUUNCH.

What the HELL was that? What did I just hit in my own fucking driveway?

Answer: the garage door that had only gone up two-thirds of the way.

Well, shit. There goes today.

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