I think if someone were to figure out how to give a five year old the Myers-Briggs test Katie would be an INFJ. Her father is an ISTJ and I'm an INFP. The reason I think she's a J and not a P is because she's asked me about fifteen times this morning if I'm "reeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaadddddddddddddddddddddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy to gooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo yet?"
I admit it: I'm pokey. It takes me twice as long to do things as most people. I'm a slow reader, a slow talker, a slow walker, and a slow get-out-of-the-houser. It's not that I don't want to leave the house. It's not that I don't want to be wherever it is I'm supposed to go. I don't know what it is. I just like to be in the moment, and for me, mornings are for slacking, sipping coffee, friendly arguements on Facebook, puttering around the house in your slippers or barefoot if it's warm.
But poor Katie just wants to go go go. Maybe she's not a J. Maybe she's just five. I can't remember if I was pokey as a kid or if I was a go go go kid. My parents are both go go go people, but somehow that quality escaped me, their only child. Ok, enough pondering, I really do need to get out the door.