Zero to Sixty in Three Seconds

Nothing in the world can make me as mad - as quickly - as my son. One minute I am standing there, a calm, poised, peaceful parent. And the next I am in a white storm of rage. Usually it happens when we are in a hurry to get out the door. I've rushed him through brushing his teeth, and we're in route to get shoes on, and then he casually stops and starts taking legos out of the drawer. As if he has nothing better in the world to do. As if I haven't said a hundred times in the past three minutes "it's time to go to school." And when I try to move him past the legos, he says, "I just have to do this one thing." Which, if I let him do it, takes about ten minutes. And then we're late for school. Even though we live on the next block. At this point, my head is about to explode.
I've been wondering why it is that Miles can make me so angry, so quickly, when no one else in the world does. It isn't as if his sister is jumping to attention to get her shoes on either. I've concluded that I just have built up a lot of frustration during the six and a half years that he has been ignoring everything I tell him to do.
All I can do at this point is take a deep breath, and try to get myself back down to 20 MPH.