the ferrython

New job, and I’m catching the ferry to work. See?

pelican

They have an official order now, so that when I report, to hub in boots, on the UN levels of negotiation required to get a toddler dressed, breakfasted and teeth cleaned, he is fully across the level of morning stress.

I have noted that my ferry times have declined in direct proportion to the coldness. As the mornings get colder, as the leaves turn and fall, we get later. We like sleeping in our house. We are night owls.

So, I present to you the order of ferries:

8:00 the rock star

This one rarely occurs. Today, I’m on it. Usually it involves shaking an unconscious toddler awake and delivering him, portable breakfast in hand, drooling, to family daycare.

8:15 the flat white. This ferry gives me enough time to buy a coffee and still make a 9 o clock meeting.

8:30 the sprint. I usually only make this ferry at a full sprint on a relatively calm morning, when my long drop off has been whittled away to something akin to throwing a child from a moving car. Don’t lie, you’ve thought about it. Sometimes this ferry is called “the fluke”, as I can occasionally make it without running to the point of cardiac arrest. Usually if it is running a touch late.

The 8:45. The miracle. This ferry gets me in at about 9:10am. It usually comes on normal to slightly degraded quality mornings. There’s a big gap after this until the 9:15 ferry, so it’s usually a miracle I’ve made it. There have been tantrums from one or both of us in making this one. Unless the “getting dressed robot” has made an appearance. He likes the getting dressed robot.

The 9:15. Also affectionately known as the “who cares”. This is the ferry I catch when I’ve given up. When the toddler wins. When I wait out the tantrum rather than push through it. Sometimes, it’s just because we’re having fun, and I don’t want to cut it short. Often, it’s because everything has gone pear shaped, or I just let jman find his own rhythm. And really, it’s work. In the scheme of things, Who cares?

The 9:30. The why bother.

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