Slow As Molasses

Ahren has long berated me for finding The Great Molasses Spill of 1919 to be one of the more amusing tragedies of our state's history. I know the actual details of the event are not even slightly funny, but when I hear the event name I can't help but imagine this slow motion mountain of molasses chasing people down the street and it makes me wonder how they couldn't outrun the substance known for how slow it moves. Perhaps he and Lexi are now in cahoots to show Mama just how tragic molasses can really be.

Lexi has reached a whole new level of slow in the morning. If you could imagine someone going through each step of dressing so slow that you would say, "Now that's just ridiculous...no one could be THAT slow" and then slow it down a bit more, then you might be able to imagine Lexi's routine in the morning. She literally moves at such a pace that her movement is often indecipherable from non-movement. This morning it took her 45 minutes to get out of bed, use the potty, take off her nightgown and put on her shirt and pants. 45 minutes. FORTY FIVE MINUTES. I dare you to try to take 45 minutes to accomplish only these 5 things. But we're not done there! No, once we finally get dressed we have to go downstairs and eat breakfast. As we are heading down I'm prepping her, "Lexi, I want you to go right to the fridge and get out your yogurt, get a spoon, and go to the table to eat, okay?" "ooookkkkaaaayyy mmmooommm. (she even talks slow in the morning)" So we get down, and she wanders slowly to the table with a dazed look in her eyes. I clap loudly (learning from Fadia) and say, "Lexi! Yogurt!" As she wonders back to the kitchen she stops at a toy and starts telling me which ducks are her favorite. Is this kid for real? 30 minutes later we give up on breakfast (Zach and I had plenty of time to eat. Lexi claimed she was done but had only eaten a few bites) and head to the car. Once in the car I get to control the speed so everyone is much happier. But once at school she informs me that I'm walking too fast. I have about 36 hours worth of "stuff" to get done in each 24 hour period...and I like to sleep, so walking slow enough to allow a snail to pass us is a little crazy making for me. The worst part of this is that trying to rush a 4 year old is like trying to get a fire to go out by fanning the flames...it only makes it worse.

So I ask you, should three hours be enough time for me to get myself and two kids out the door in the morning? If I concede that the Great Molasses Spill of 1919 was completely tragic, and not at all funny, will it make my 4 year old move faster in the morning? I'm willing to give that a try...