When Chris is done with something, he is SO done.
When he is ready for something, he is SO ready.
When Chris goes to bed at night, his getting ready for bed routine is this:
1. Remove pants (if applicable).
2. Lie down in bed.
I'm over here, washing my face and putting on pajamas and moisturizing and chap-sticking and getting a glass of water and choosing an outfit for the next day and checking the weather and . . .
How is that fair?
When Chris gets out of the car, this is how it goes:
1) Get out of the car.
2) Walk in the house
I'm still in the car, with the snack wrappers and the dirty tissues, and the wet bathing suits and the extra sweatshirts and the forgotten head bands and the lunch boxes and . . .
When Chris leaves the house in the morning, this is what happens:
1) Leave the house
Chris usually leaves a few minutes before me, mostly because I spend an extra five minutes turning off all the lights, flushing the toilets, turning off the air-conditioners, and closing the doors.
And he's always asking me, genuinely confused, why it takes me so long to do anything.
I don't understand either.
Maybe he should teach a class. Like one of those life improvement seminars. "How to make your life better by just taking off your pants and getting in bed."
Also, this is another instance where you can tell the children are genetically related to Chris.