Posted by: Jamie Stamm | February 19, 2009

My daughter the dawdler

When Cera brought home a tardy note a few weeks ago, I was a bit surprised. I didn’t think I had dropped her off at school much later than normal that morning. In fact, we’d never arrived so late that she couldn’t comfortably make the 200-foot walk from our van to her classroom before the bell rang at 8:20.

Or so I thought.

Because since that morning, I’ve realized how S-L-O-W my daughter walks toward school. I’ve talked to her about her tortoise-like speed on a few occasions, but it doesn’t seem to have done any good. My daughter is a definite dawdler.

Take this morning, for instance. After letting her out of the van (I have to open and close the van door for Cera because it’s too heavy for her, especially in a we’ve-got-to-move-quickly-because-there-are-lots-of-people-behind-us situation like carpool), I hopped back in the driver’s seat, put on my seat belt, drove the rest of the way around the traffic circle and was almost back at the road, only to glance in my rear-view mirror and see that Cera had moved approximately three steps from where I’d safely deposited her on the sidewalk. I glanced at my dashboard clock. 8:16. That gave her four minutes to hustle up and get inside.

I have no idea why Cera chooses to slowly mosey toward school. She gets up each morning eager to see her classmates and is all smiles on the ride, talking animatedly about what’s planned for the day. But when her feet hit school property, she switches into slow motion.

I called Jerry on his way to work this morning to get his take on our daughter’s passive pace.

“Did she have anyone to walk in to school with?” he asked.

“No,” I replied.

“She was probably waiting for someone to walk in with,” Jerry said. “You know how social she is.”

And you know what? My wise old husband (well, he’s not that old) may be right. Because I have on occasion seen Cera run toward school – if she’s trying to catch up with a classmate. And if we get to carpool at the same time as her best friend, they march right to class together, hand in hand.

That said, I really hope Cera didn’t stand around waiting for a friend this morning. Because as I turned out of the school parking lot, there wasn’t a familiar car in site.

Maybe I should prepare myself for another note from the principal’s office …


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