If You Bring a Child To Work...

If you tell your child that you are bringing her to work, she will be very excited.

So excited that she will wake you up at 4:30 AM to get ready because she doesn't want to be late.

She will not want to take a shower, because that means that you will have to comb her hair.

When you comb her hair, you will be reminded of the many mornings that you get to do this whole routine in the quiet, without so many lights on, and about two hours later than you are doing it today.

When her hair is all done, the clothes are all perfect, she will decide that she needs a bowl of cereal.

You will want to take her shirt off because you know that she will spill cereal on her clothes. You will both win and lose this argument.

She will want to ride in the front seat, just like you, until you remind her that you could go to jail for letting that happen.

She will fall asleep during your commute, because she has been up for 3 and half hours now and is feeling a bit sleepy.

When you finally get to work, she will be cranky because she is just waking up. She will want you to carry her into the building. 

When you refuse, the first tantrum of the day will be held in the office parking lot as you are scrambling to get in the door. 

When you finally get into the office, the elderly security guard will (of course) offer her chocolate. At 7:48 in the morning. You will not be able to say no. The child will devour an entire chocolate Cadbury creme egg (the ones that are just filled with chocolate). 

When you get to the safety of your office, you will need to close the door as you become aware of every sound that comes from the child. Every sound. Even the ones that she announces by yelling, "I just laid a STINK BOMB!".

She will write "letters" (actual letters, 3 to 5 per page, randomly) for you and all of your coworkers. She will want to hand deliver them, you will have to accompany her on each of these trips. When asked what the letters say, she will shrug her shoulders, roll her eyes, and declare, "I don't know how to read yet."

She will want to eat the lunch you packed at 10:14, and the travel reimbursements that you have been working on all week will become smeared with peanut butter and jelly. There will be a discarded crust crumbling on your floor. You will have to deal with all of that later. 

She will proclaim your office the most awesomest, funnest place ever and marvel at how your job became this great. 5 minutes later she will be crying for her daddy, insisting that this is the most boring place in the whole world and that you are the worst parent she has ever had. Then she will remember that she has not yet ridden on the elevator. You will have to take her on the elevator. 

When she gets to the elevator doors, she will be behind you. When the door opens, you will be in mid-step and she will dive in front of you, causing you to have to re-correct your footing quickly. There will be a loud pop and a blinding blast of pain from your knee. You will need to schedule an appointment with Urgent Care. 

You will decide to hobble out to the car to attempt to take the child on a field trip. The child will decide that your best friend's work is far more interesting and will choose to stay there (with the chocolate muffins) instead of returning to your work. 

You try not to yell, "Sorry, SUCKA!" as you drive out of the parking lot beaming. 

When you talk to the child later in the day, she will want to know when she will be able to come back to your work.