9:28 AM: Me, to my children: “Okay, Guys. You both need to get dressed. We’re leaving for Grandma’s house just after 11 AM.”
Children go into their room. Sounds of laughter and playing.
9:42 AM: Walk into room. Both children are still in pyjamas, but now they are sprawled on the floor playing with toys. UPDATE: Room is now a huge mess.
Me: “KIDS. You need to get dressed. I just did the laundry and there are TONS of clean clothes in your closet. Please. Get dressed.”
9:56 AM: I am now dressed, with hair and make-up done. Walk into children’s room. Children are still playing atop the giant mess of toys, only they have removed their pants. UPDATE: No pants.
Me: “Kids. Get DRESSED.”
10:02 AM: Return to the room realizing that I have to be actively involved, or they will never get dressed. 6-year-old is still pantsless with her pyjama shirt on. 8-year-old’s shirt has migrated to the top of his head, like a headdress. UPDATE: Headdress.
Me: “KIDDDS. Get your clothes ON. Please!”
10:04 AM: Start focusing on the 6-year-old. While I try to focus her she is flitting around the room like a hummingbird, showing me various uninteresting things. “S,” I say, “Choose some clothes.” “Which dress should I wear, Mama? Which one is more beautifuller? This one or that one?” “That one.” I say, pointing to a random dress. “Well, atchally I choose THIS one,” she says, predictably choosing the other one. Each time she flits past me I attempt to loop the dress over her head… eventually I snag her. The other one breezes past, naked bum exposed. “A!” I say to him, “Underwear!” “Can I wear tights, Mama?” asks the 6-year-old. Yes. Whatever. Other child’s underwear: on. Tights: applied to legs. Older child has disappeared. UPDATE: ONE CHILD DRESSED! Other child MIA.
10:17 AM: Look for other child. Oh, he’s in the living room. His headdress has now migrated back on to his body as a pyjama shirt and he is standing still, staring at the computer screensaver. “A,” I say, “Underwear!”
10:22 AM: 8-year-old has made it back into the bedroom, but is now fixated on watching a spider on a web outside the window while he continues to wear no pants. “A! Get dressed!” I say. “But I’m cold!” He says to me. UPDATE: Child is now starting to realize the ill-effects of remaining half-naked all day. This knowledge has not translated into the logic that if he gets dressed he may start to actually be un-cold.
10:29 AM: There is a sighting of shorts! Coming back from downstairs I see that the 8-year-old has not only applied underwear to his body, but he is holding shorts in his hand! Unfortunately he is using them to hit his sister with, but progress is progress! Also, the shirt has made it back into headdress position. “A!” I say, trying another tactic, “Great job getting your underwear on! Now you just need to finish getting dressed – you can do it!” UPDATE: Underwear applied. PJ shirt as headdress. Shorts being used as a weapon, but present nonetheless! Starting to feel hopeful!
10:45 AM: Find 8-year-old sitting at kitchen table wearing shorts and nothing else. He and sister have been making a “video” with their camera. Am forced to watch video, which is mostly blurry images of the two of them shouting nonsense words and filming pictures they have drawn. It turns out that there are two videos, each over 4 minutes long. While “watching” videos I realize that there is rain pelting against the windows. “A,” I say, “Maybe you should wear pants instead?” “I AM wearing shorts!” He says. “No, PANTS, not shorts,” I say. “Oh.” He says, “But I’m cold!” UPDATE: Child is wearing underwear and shorts, and the logic that pants might increase warmth escapes him. No shirt, no socks. Video(s!) uninteresting.
10:52 AM: Begin writing blog post about impossible morning. 8-year-old observes title. “It’s about getting kids dressed …” he says. And with that he disappears into his room and comes out with pants, a shirt and socks on. UPDATE: Blogging really works!
10:56 AM: Suggest that each child should get a sweater to wear. 6-year-old brings out too-small, mismatched sweater – it’s not worth the battle to try to convince her not to wear it. Help her get it on. 8-year-old: “I don’t even need a sweater!” Me: “Do me a favour – step out on the porch and tell me if you still don’t think you need a sweater.” 8-year-old goes outside, shrieks, comes back in and puts on a sweater. UPDATE: I am always right.
So it ended up taking an hour and a half, but we are all finally ready to go to Grandma’s house.
Except now I really need a nap.