Ever since he was born, my kid has been tardy. I’ve tried everything to speed him up. Now what?

Alex is late. My son has been late his whole life, having spent 15 years mastering the art of procrastination and manipulating it to his purposes. It all started at birth. He was late coming out. Whatever it was he was doing in there, he had no intention of leaving until the doctor forcibly pried him out with a giant pair of tongs. He’s been late ever since. Wake up? Late. Eat breakfast? Late. Go to school, run a mile, buy a birthday card, go to sleep … late, late, late. And guess who’s paying the price? No, I will not write today, “Please excuse my son for being late.” It’s time to face the music, bub!

He says it’s because he forgets. “I forgot” has taken on a bone-chilling ring in our house. I wonder if any mom ever killed in response to those words. I’ve fantasized about putting Alex in a choke hold until he admits he’s just pretending to forget. (It’s okay to think it as long as you don’t do it, right?)

“No, mom, I really forgot. Don’t you ever forget?” Repressed response: Yeah, I forgot to wring your neck! I try new strategies; I give him responsibility; I stop checking his homework.

Then he brings home his report card.

“If you’d gotten an 85 in health, Alex, instead of a 50, I probably would have said, ‘Good work,’ and left it at that.” Instead, I’ve been harping for weeks on how does one get a 50 in Health, anyway? “Were you late to class? Late with homework?”

“I forgot.”

I try to reverse the stakes, “forgetting” to cook dinner, wash clothes, buy socks. Alex knows it’s a ploy. Effect (on a 0 to 10 scale): 0. So I slowly let him suffer the consequences. He’s chronically late everywhere. Alex’s classmates hiss, “Pathetic!” whenever he enters the room. His friends actually come over to our house and shake him awake.

So he cries, “Help me, Ma. I can’t help myself.” He gets mad at himself, briefly, and then gets mad at me. “Why didn’t you wake me, remind me, make me do it or do it for me?” Effect: 4. We’ve been playing this game a long, long time. Once, when he was 2 and refused to get dressed for school, I threw him outside half-naked and walked away. (It was spring.) Effect: 10. I doubt this tactic would work today. Should I reward him when he’s on time? (But when is that?)

I worry: how will he ever hold down a job? He says, “I don’t like the pressure of having to be a professional.” I counter, “Hey, you could be a carpenter in Vermont for all I care!” “Mom, that sounds … great!” “Alex, go to college, then you can do what you like.” “Do I have to?”

This kid—did I mention he’s an artist?—definitely walks to a different drummer...and the drummer’s late with the beat. But in my heart of hearts, I know he’ll succeed at whatever he wants to do. Do I know what will make him happy? of course not. But I can’t worry about that now. I’m running late.