Half-eaten piece of toast in hand, back-pack dragging, shoes untied and a mad dash to the school bus stop.

Not that any of my five young girls have experienced this firsthand or anything. We’re always on time in the mornings. Never rushed.

Except for a time or two when we slept late, or couldn’t settle on the right pony tails, or the socks didn’t fit quite right, or we didn’t like our shoes, or the clothes weren’t the right color, or we just didn’t feel like going to school, or we think we should use our sister’s backpack today, or so-and-so’s a car rider and we should be too, or there’s a shiny rock in the driveway...