By Carol Goddard.

Chaos? Mayhem? Total disorganisation?

None of the above. And all of the above.

Every Monday morning, without fail, the battle begins: getting the kids to school on time.

First challenge - waking up. Getting out of bed? A whole other ordeal. Cold mornings make it even worse. For teenagers? Practically torture. Bed is just too warm, too inviting, too… not Monday morning.

Eventually, the sluggish shuffle begins - shower (maybe), wash (hopefully), breakfast (debatable). And oh, the agony of watching a single mouthful of cereal take five full minutes to chew. The school bell waits for no one, but somehow, breakfast digestion apparently does.

Then, the frantic treasure hunt kicks off:

"Where are my shoes?"

"I can’t find my library bag!"

"My hat’s not in my bag!"

Followed closely by:

"Did you brush your teeth?"

"Did you do your hair?"

"Why is your brother on the floor?"

Meanwhile, the siren call of the TV, PlayStation, or an abandoned footy in the living room is impossible to resist. Because obviously, now is exactly the right time to practice dribbling.

At last, breakfast is mostly eaten, entertainment is switched off, the ball is hurled into the backyard, and hair and teeth are somewhat attended to. Time to pile into the car.

The school run is only a few minutes, but in the backseat, sibling negotiations begin: A whack here, a pinch there. Nothing serious—just enough to fray your last nerve. Add in bumper-to-bumper traffic, a shortage of parking spaces, and music that you actually want to hear being drowned out by bickering, and the experience is complete.

Then - miracle of miracles - arrival. The kids leap out, instantly transformed into laughing, chattering social butterflies the moment they spot their friends.

Victory! Monday morning school drop-off: complete.

Until tomorrow. Then it’s Tuesday’s turn.