Running Late

Why is it when you're running late:
Your daughter decides to drag her feet,
Then starts crying and sits down on the wet grass,
On strike.
Then the dog gets out and chases the kids to the bus stop.
You, in your nighty with bare feet must pursue the whole party across the paddock.
The grass wet and icy whipping your bare legs.
With renewed attention the little girl slows her pace and screams louder.
Nothing to do but grab the dog,
And encourage the recalcitrant with threats, should she miss the bus.
Her siblings, save the oldest have gone from sight.
She relents and moves quicker but still wailing.
I return to the house annoyed,
That this has happened,
And that I feel like a callous, insensitive parent.