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July 18, 2003 - Friday
There is a moment every weekday morning (maybe not really every morning, but I notice it a lot) that hits me like a cool breeze on a hot day or maybe a first sip of beer late in a summer afternoon. I'm still moving at the time it happens, but, for an instant, time might as well have stopped. Indeed, mornings with the boys does mean a constant state of motion. There's getting the breakfast, washing the dishes, dressing them (if that's not been done), brushing their teeth, and brushing my own teeth. Then, there's a whole getting them corralled into the back hall and into their shoes thing. I suppose it's a little like herding cats were cats to be both curious and lacking in any hesitation to act on that curiosity; were cats to both like playing with toys and have the ability to find a toy quality in any inanimate object lying in the back hall; or were cats to have both short attention spans and large amounts of motivation. Don't get me wrong, there are days, although admittedly not all days, when I find the inevitable interaction of mornings wonderfully rewarding, bonding, and endearing. However, by the time I've collected there lunch bags and border collied them into the garage and over toward the car, there is a keen sense that the sheep are almost in the pen. When finally I've strapped Harry into his seat on the passenger side of the car and Jeremy into his seat behind the driver's seat, there's still more of the morning to go. I'll take Harry to school and will need to bring Jeremy in, then extract him from whatever activity he has found. Then, I'll have to take Jeremy to Mary's house before I'm truly on my own for the work day. But, as I step back from snapping Jeremy's buckle, stand up and begin to shut the car door, the boy-herding is done. At that moment, as the door is closing on to buckled up boys, my dog ears are no longer pointed with anticipation, I'm no longer racing against the clock, and I am at ease.

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