writingwahm

‘Daddy quicked me up!’ my daughter said this morning, trying to explain that her dad had told her to hurry. She had leveled the same accusation at me less than a week earlier. ‘You quicked me up and I can’t go that fast!’

My poor daughter just wants to take the time to smell the roses, enjoy her shower, play with her toys. She doesn’t understand deadlines. As a writer, I do, and I have lots of them, so we are fundamentally at odds over timekeeping. So we compromise. Sometimes I get her up five minutes earlier so she can complete her morning tasks without having to rush. And sometimes I just decide to let it go. After all, she’s only five and there’s time enough for her to join the rat race.