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The dawdling

Before I had kids of my own, I remember hearing horror stories about what dawdlers kids can be.

How they live on their own time.

How as a parent, you will never be on time for anything ever again.

They weren't joking.

My son has sunken deeper into the dawdler hole. He was never great at getting out the door, but at least I could ply him with promises of Tumblebus or something exciting that awaited him at daycare or school. Or worse case, I could just pick him up and haul him to the car and buckle him in.

I discovered this morning, when reasoning didn't work, that my 3.5 year old is getting very heavy and is freakishly strong.

Any advice for conveying the notion of time ticking away to a preschooler staring at his Cheerios?

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