I laid the outfits out the night before: two matching shirts, pants, socks, shoes.
I showered that morning, time running out, thankful at my planning ahead.
Baby was sleeping in the crib in his onsie, "Please get the big boy dressed," I called, "Clothes are sitting on the couch."
I hustle into church clothes, clasp my shoes and wake the baby to get dressed.
"We're ready and waiting in the car," he calls, we might just make it on time, I think to myself.
I grab baby's clothes on the couch, change his diaper and start getting him dressed.
Shirt is swimming on him. Tag says 3T.
Run to the car, idling in the garage.
Take the big boy out of the booster, look at his tag; 6 months.
We were late.
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