The morning yell is inevitable. It happens for different reasons every day – dawdling, sleeping in, being distracted – but it is inevitable. My daughter is physically incapable of getting ready on time without the morning routine escalating crazily into the morning yell.
To wit: I walk into the bathroom – she’s standing in front of the cabinet, holding a toothbrush in each hand. I’m frantically trying to get by, to wash my face, to get her to finish her teeth, to get us out the door before we’re both late …
“Da, da, da da. Da, da, da da,” she’s singing to the toothbrushes (to the tune of the Wedding March, of course).
“What are you doing?” I ask sharply. She says nothing.
“Oh my God, are you marrying the toothbrushes?!” I yell, incredulous. Yet another sentence I never thought would leave my mouth.
She starts into awareness. “Nope.” She runs – fast – to her bedroom to finish getting dressed.
Later in the day I recounted this episode to a friend. She shook her head and laughed, covering her face in recognition. “You were late,” she commiserates with the yelling. “Couldn’t they have just lived together for a while?”
Ba da boom.