Ever since sandal weather ended and coat and socks and shoes weather began, we have been late to S's Friday morning dance class. It starts at 10:00. I don't know what I'm going to do when she has to be at school by 8:00 next year, but I'll worry about that later. It's harder to get there by 10:00 than it is to get to church by 9:00. It's not like we sleep late either. And I'm normally a punctual person. Maybe it's because that extra hour gives me a false sense of security, and I start doing other things I don't do on Sunday mornings, like check my email . . . . The cold weather gear really does slow things down, too. That's what I hate most about winter.
Anyway, I hate rushing in late, and S even said recently that she didn't want to be the last one there anymore! Ouch. So this morning, I told myself that we had to leave the house at 9:30 (it's about 3 miles away). So we left at 9:45, and arrived early. S was confused! She could see the 9:30 class in progress on the waiting room tvs, and kept trying to go in with them. She had totally forgotten what it was like to not be late.