Happy Monday

5:30 am rise and shine.  First day back at school.  Bronwyn covers me with kisses.  Jack is excited to go back to school and picks out his clothes.  If only time froze right there.

5:35 am chaos.  Jack hugs Dad (who was away all weekend) and somehow pinches a nerve or something during the hug fest. Scene ends with Jack on the floor reeling in pain.

Cut to Bronwyn. Despite the fact it is 30 degrees outside she wants to wear her summer Belle princess dress. I offer a grand solution... to wear it over her winter clothes. She will have none of that. Many tears and she ends up in olive leggings, grey henley, red-orange cardigan and a BIG GIANT PINK TUTU.

6:00 am breakfast. Jack now loaded with Advil and pressing a compress to his neck.  I make the callosal mistake of serving Jack, my slow eater, first. Bronwyn dissolves into a fit of fury. I decipher a "I want the blue plate" through the screams. So her breakfast is served on a blue plate. "NOT THAT ONE!". She cries...she wants Jack's...same plate colour and style...the exact same food. Yet the tears are at a rate of an ounce a second!  With Jack's permission I switch plates.  She then notices Jack dipped into his butter already.  More. Fits. Of. Fury.  Plates quickly switched back and tears start to subside. Gary gives me the, "you will spoil her rotten if you keep giving her, her way" look and exits stage garage.

I bundle Jack up (not to dote but to maximize time.)  I put his shoes and coat on while he continues to chew his waffle slower than any other human has ever chewed a waffle before. Then I slip his backpack on forgetting about his "broken" neck. A lot more tears and a few accusations about it being on purpose (where's the logic in that, Mr. smarty pants.)

Bronwyn on the other hand...as the left hand is holding her waffle and sausage link...does not want to wear a coat. Even the coat we call a dress because it looks just like a dress.  Plan B.  She gets a scarf, hat (too big for her head) and a chenille blanket wrapped around her. 

We walk the .25 miles to the bus stop as every other parent passes me in a car, coffee in hand and children nestled in backseat watching their automobile's entertainment system for the .25 miles to the bus stop.  Why am I so dumb?

Once there my children transform into polite, happy and engaging children. The life of the party.  Mr. Matt comments..."boy I wish I could have a little of what your kids have in my house each morning." Oh, you can Mr. Matt. You certainly can.

After several comments about Bronwyn's lack of coat despite the blanket (in the wagon), two cardigans, scarf and hat...I hang my head in shame, put my son on the bus, hold my daughter's hand and steer the wagon (which she insisted on riding there but refuses to ride home.)  Once we get home I spot the waffle and sausage still in her left hand...just a bit soggy and crumbly. I debate for a nano second putting it back on the plate for her but wisely choose to make her a fresh breakfast instead.

And that is the story of Monday morning here...