Welcome to Bermuda, Where the Weather is Fine but Everyone is Fifteen Minutes Late

Allow me to propose a theory here. There is a mysterious time vacuum between my kitchen and my garage door (they are adjoining spaces). It’s like the Bermuda Triangle. It destroys fifteen minutes anytime I am going anywhere.

Example: We aim to leave at 9:15 on Sunday mornings. At 9:15, all the children are dressed to the shoes, have their hair combed, their teeth brushed and have their Bibles in hand and ARE STANDING IN THE KITCHEN. The baby is neatly fastened in her carseat.

Then, some stuff happens. I’m not sure exactly what, but it has to do with forgotten items, misbehaving children, and seat belts.

We back out of the garage, look at the clock, and say, “how did it get to be 9:32?!”

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