The Dad Who Cried Wolf.

I like to be on time.  I have to be on time.  I really do not like being late.  

Back when I worked in an office, if I had a meeting at 9:00, I was always the first person in the room, probably at about 8:45.

Church starts at 8:30 so we get there at about 8:15.

The movie is at 6:30, so we're in the lobby buying our popcorn at 6:10.

I tend to spend my mornings during the school year yelling things like "Hurry up, we're going to be late!" or "Get dressed so we can go!!!!" or the all-time great "I'm leaving in 2 minutes with or without you!!!!  (like I'd ever leave without them....that would make them late.)

In the six years I've been getting my kids ready for school, we've never been late.  We've probably never even been close to being late.  But, none the less, every morning finds me yelling the warnings as if the sky were falling.

And my kids are on to me.

This week my daughter is going to Girl Scout day camp.  We live about a 3 minute drive from the camp and it starts at 9:00.    This morning I yelled kindly urged her to get dressed.  It was 8:20 and we had to leave RIGHT AWAY!  She just mumbled something like "relax dad," and kept watching TV in her PJs.  

She got dressed.  We made it in plenty of time.  The sky didn't fall.