Little girl’s school starts at 7:45. That’s butt in the seat time, y’all.
She likes to get there early to get in a little playground time, so daddy leaves the house with her no later than 7:10. That means that I get up at 6:15 to get a lunch ready and the little girl ready to leave.
I take that back. I don’t mind getting up at 6:15. Getting up at 6:15 and immediately walking into the kitchen and assembling a semi-nutritious lunch is what hurts. My brain is still foggy and my eyes struggle to focus, but I’ve got to cut that hot dog, rumble around and find some fruit, and remember to pack utensils.
Of course, on days that there is a school lunch that the little girl wants to eat, I get that time to ease into my morning instead. I like it when she chooses the school lunch.
This morning I checked the school lunch menu and found that it was something she might want to eat. When I went into her room to give her her “pre-wake”, I asked about the lunch.
“Tray lunch is barbecue chicken and peaches. Do you want that or do you want to bring your lunch”
“What would you pack me?” The ever-important question. I had planned on making her a hot dog, but I knew that she’d probably prefer that to the barbecue chicken.
“Oh… peanut butter and jelly.”
A moment of silence as she thinks about it, my 15 minutes of back-to-bed hanging in the balance.
“I’ll take the tray lunch.”