Always

I am chronically late. It's a genetic condition exasperated by essentially ALL OF THE WORLD. I can plan to my heart's content, but SOMETHING will happen that causes me to be stupidly late.

I have millions of examples.

Perhaps my favorite was the time I was late to meet someone for lunch because I got caught behind a bright red Corvette and couldn't pass it. By the way, it was a winding 2-lane rural road and the Corvette was moving 20 mph. In a 45 mph zone. I don't know about you, but I see people driving under the speed limit all of the time.

You can't plan for that sort of weird.

The thing about my chronic lateness is that somehow it ends up not having an impact on Alexis. I think it might be in part because all of the things involving her are in good locations. Driving from our house in the middle of nowhere to her school in the middle of nowhere is pretty safe, especially since they're only five minutes apart. The other factor is that Alexis is a big fan of being early, so "on time" for her is generally waaaaaaay early.

For example, she prefers to be an hour early for dance class. More power to her because that just gives me more time to run errands and such.

It wasn't until today that I realized how very little my lateness alters Alexis' day. I needed to leave work early to pick her up from school because of a school activity. I got caught in a necessary conversation on my way out, so I wound up getting into my car five minutes late.

FIVE MINUTES.

I sent a few texts to make sure Alexis would get word that I would be a few minutes late. And, just as I relayed, I ended up getting there exactly five minutes late.

AND OMG. The kid could not have possibly complained more than she did. She swore it felt like hours and it was awful and waaaaaaah.

There was a lot of whining, you guys. Alexis is generally not terrible about the whining, but apparently that five minutes was worth spilling it all.

I was so confused.

I remember distinctly waiting for hours to get picked up after school. My mom sometimes had jobs that kept her there longer than expected, so I would hang out at the playground until she got there. I never knew if it was a late day or not, I just sort of kept an eye out for her. I never once thought to get mad about it.

So basically Alexis ended up treated to a "Why, when I was your age, I walked uphill both ways through six feet of snow" rant. And then I made her look at photos of snow in North Dakota so she would know I was totally serious.

Ten bucks says Mila never cares if I'm late. Twenty bucks says she's worse than I am. STAY TUNED.