“Clothes, shoes, coats, bags. Let’s get going, gang!” Tyson Smith had said this sentence time and time again. “You have five minutes.”
Two children, too young to really understand what ‘time management’ meant, ran about the house doing anything other than listen to their father. Tyson was unsure if the children were purposely ignoring him, or rather so entrenched in their current game they were incapable of hearing him.
“Four minutes,” Tyson said. His voice growing louder, more impatient.
“Dad, I need help finding my bag,” the oldest child asked.
“Okay. Where was it last?” Tyson asked.
A seven minute story followed. They were no closer to finding the bag.
“Dad, need help with my bag,” said the youngest.
Four minutes passed before Tyson realized the young one, still new to the language, was trying to mimic the older sibling.
“Dad! I can’t get my shoe on,” the oldest shouted.
Tyson had been through this before as well. It was never easier.
“Okay, everyone in the car!” Tyson ordered. Loud, curt, tired; half an hour had passed since the five minute warning. Control was a feeling he no longer understood.
Ten minutes later, the car seats were buckled and Tyson readied to back the car out of the garage.
“Where are we going, dad?” the oldest asked.
Tyson huffed, rested his forehead on the steering wheel and muttered, “I don’t even remember.”
Thanks for reading!
My short story “lunch hour read” collection People on the Highway is free now through February 10! Click here for your copy (share and review if you would, please!) https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VUE2OQS Thanks!