Stalling

The stalling. Oh, my God, the stalling.

It takes us forever to get William to do certain things these days. It's getting absurd.

We try to leave the house on time. William announces he has to go potty. Of course, by the time I get him situated on the potty, he doesn't produce but a drop or two. He didn't really have to go potty, but who refuses a toddler who says he wants to go potty? So then I have to yank all his clothes back on and into place, get his jacket back on him (because of course how could he go potty while fully dressed?) and wrestle him into his carseat. Great, now we're running ten minutes late.

We try to get William to get into the bathroom. But first he has to try on his wizard costume or put the baby doll in her stroller and take the stroller to the rec room or look for his missing Percy train. By the time we finally convince him to get into the bathtub, we're running ten minutes behind, and bedtime once again will be delayed.

And we try to get William to bed at a reasonable time each night. But before he will consent to lying down and winding down, he has to have a sip of water from that sippy cup and a sip from his other sippy cup, and oh yes, this cup is nearly empty. And he has to move his music box from one side of the crib to the other, then test out all the musical options to find the right one to suit his mood, then compulsively adjust the volume. When the lights finally go off, we're running...you guessed it...ten minutes behind.

If I could add up all those ten-minute increments that I lose each day due to my son's stalling techniques, I'd have an extra hour in my day. Think what I could do with all that time! I could, er, write on this...er, blog...