Thirty-something speaks
The tortoise and the hare
Mike Maddock

Weekday mornings in my house tend to remind me of the old tale about the tortoise and the hare. Everyone knows this story. An arrogant rabbit is challenged to a race by a turtle. The rabbit jumps out to an early, commanding lead and decides to take a little snooze. Meanwhile, the turtle never stops and plods along to one of the greatest upsets in the history of sports. The moral of the story is slow and steady wins the race.

Slow and steady may win the race, but in real life, it can be quite frustrating when the turtle is holding up carpool. My oldest daughter moves like she's wearing a shell and lives in her own little world. She generally moves toward the finish line, but calling her steady is debatable. She's probably more like the turtle crossing the road in front of a stopped line of traffic. You know eventually she'll get across as you tap the steering wheel and glance at the clock repeatedly, but it sure is tempting to get out the car, pick her up, and toss her to the other side so you can get on with your day.

Somehow my oldest daughter manages to get dressed, finish her breakfast, mosey into the car, and make it to school on time every morning. Unlike the tortoise in the story, she needs constant reminding of the time, and she has no interest in whether the hare is waiting for her in the car or not.

By contrast, my youngest daughter is as quick as a rabbit. She'll be standing by the door with her backpack on 30 minutes early looking at the clock saying, "Hurry up! It's time to go!" The only problem with that, other than the fact she still can't tell time, is she has to sit and wait, which gives two characters that did not appear in the original story time to mess up everything.

The hare in the first story may have had some napping issues, but he didn't have to deal with a little brother or a dog. That tale may have ended differently had that rabbit just stopped at Starbucks, but my daughter needs a lot more than a cup of coffee to hold off her rambunxious sibling and a playful puppy.

For some reason when my son notices my youngest daughter waiting by the door with her backpack on, he thinks that's the perfect opportunity to sneak up from behind and tackle her. Once he's got her on the floor, the dog decides to get involved. The dog jumps across her several times, stopping occasionally to lick her cheek with his oversized Bassett hound tongue.

The child that did everything she was supposed to do and got ready 30 minutes early with no prodding from any one, suddenly looks like she's been in a cage match. Her clothes are disheveled. Her hair is pointing in 30 different directions, and she smells more like a hound dog than a little girl.

While my speedy, little daughter is primping, repairing, and wiping off doggy slobber in the bathroom, my tortoise casually finishes her breakfast, straps on her backpack, and walks to the car ready, at last, to go.

Slow and steady wins the race, but it doesn't hurt to tackle the hare.

Mike@TheColumbiaStar.com