Patience is not a virtue of mine, and it’s definitely not something that eminates from my soul in the mornings.
I’m usually not at my best before 8 a.m., especially on work and school mornings. Miss C, God bless her, is somewhat OCD (I’m not sure where she got that personality trait) about getting to school not just on time, but early…as in arrive before they open the school doors at 7:45 sharp.
One morning last week I was scrambling to get my sh*t together: rushing to brush my teeth, freaking out over the fact that I couldn’t find my car keys, and searching high and low for my phone charger.
Miss C was on me like a drill sergeant.
“Mommy let’s go…come on! COME ON Mommy we’re going to be late! Mommy you need to be more organized in the mornings!”
“I’m coming, I’m coming!” I groused. Sheesh kid, have some patience, I thought to myself.
And then it hit me like a cup of coffee you look forward to savoring that’s gone bitterly cold.
She sounded JUST LIKE ME.
I’ve been remarkably more patient this week in the mornings.