Every day, I take my three children to school. I drop them off at three different schools. Ella is the first to go. Next is Hadley. Last is Layton. I pick them up in the same order as well.
Hadley is always happy to get in the car and head home for the day.
Layton is usually sleepy. I pick him up right after nap time.
Ella wiggles and jiggles all over the car while we wait in the ridiculously long car line at Hadley's school.
This is the aforementioned car line. It has several curves and twists along the way. Sometimes, we actually wait on the highway just to get in the car line.
This is a pattern that repeats itself five days a week. The children know that I will be in the kitchen preparing lunch boxes and filling water bottles. There is no doubt that I will attempt to tame unruly hair. They know that I will usher them to school every day. They know that I will usher them home from school as well. They also know what I am going to say to them when we get home.
The same thing is true of other events that take place at my house. Sometimes I want to change my name to broken record. Hmmm. I'd have to change my vanity call sign with the FCC. I'll keep my name, but I get so tired of being a broken record. What are the most common phrases I use too much you ask? That's easy...
"Brush your teeth."
"Please clean your bedroom."
"Have you got any homework?"
"Get your shoes on."
"Do you know where your shoes are?"
"It's time for bed."
"I said NOW."
"No, you cannot have a pony."
"Do you want to eat or go hungry? Then, come to the dinner table now."
"Clean your room!"
"I said pick it up NOW."
and my personal favorite
"I am going to sell you to the gypsies if you don't mind me. I've got them on speed dial."
Day in and day out, I say these things to my children. Do they listen? No. Do they mind? No. They suffer from one of God's greatest gifts - free will. Some day when I am older, I will tell the children to clean their rooms, and the rooms will already be clean. When I am even older, there will be no children to fuss at; they will be grown and behaving like broken records with their own children. Until then, I will continue to scrape Pop Tarts off of places that Pop Tarts should never be.