Micah's bus comes at 7:47 am.
I encourage him to be upstairs for breakfast at 7:15 am.
This morning, as I was making his peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich, while keeping his pancakes warm in the oven, I realized that it was already 7:35 am.
I asked Thomas, who was eating his French Toast (yeah, yeah... I know... but in my defense, I've been using a pancake mix, so putting together pancakes for one boy and his Dad, and then mixing up one egg with some milk to make French Toast for the other boy who doesn't like pancakes but will eat French Toast isn't as much spoilage as it might appear) if Micah was up yet.
Thomas casually replied that he didn't think so. He'd thought he must be upstairs as it was all quiet down.
I slid down the banister and threw open Micah's bedroom door to announce that he only had about 10 minutes to get ready for the bus.
It took him at least a minute to even recognize me, but when reality took over from his unconscious state he had the good grace to look slightly abashed.
I told him I could probably buy him an extra five or ten minutes if he went along when Thomas was taken to work. It would mean getting to school before 8:15 am, and possibly beating all the staff, but I couldn't see any other options. Well, biking would be an option. He could probably leave at 8:15 and be at school in plenty of time for the 8:45 start.
Anyway, I zipped back upstairs with Micah close on my heels, pulling a shirt over his head.
"I'm going to quickly wash my hair", he said, and he was back in the kitchen by 7:40 am.
He wanted to put some cereal in a bag to eat on the bus, even though I pointed out that I'd already phoned the bus driver's cell to tell him Micah wouldn't be ready and he could drive past.
Micah didn't want to be at school early; I can't remember if I suggested biking... but he wanted to just try for the bus.
I told him that he'd have to be there, waiting when the bus came over the hill, as if the driver didn't see him he wouldn't stop.
Do you know that the boy made it?!
In slightly less than 10 minutes, he'd gone from a comatose state, to being dressed, with washed hair. He had to wait about 2 minutes for the bus.
It took longer for my heart to stop pounding after that excitement.
This is a good thing to know: that Micah can still make the bus, even if he sleeps past 7:30 am.
Next year, when he catches the same bus at the same time to get to the high school in Wetaskiwin, he won't be able to say, "You'll have to drive me, I'll never make it!"
If I survive semi-retirement it may be a minor miracle.