Ode to the early riser…
You lack a certain appreciation for sleep that the rest of the living world treasures; no finds as a vital necessity. But you don’t just wake up early, no you wake up like a bolt of electricity struck you – energized beyond what the natural laws of physics should allow. And as you are bouncing on top of my head rambling about random snippets of what I can only imagine must be your dreams, you begin making your list of demands. It goes something like this:
“And George went to space” (Curious George could only be who you are referring to, since it is the only show you want to watch these days and will no doubt be played on repeat until the sheer thought of watching it sends you into a giant fit when I even have the audacity to suggest it. Surely I should have sensed it was time for something new.)
“And mommy went to space, and daddy went to space…” (Now you have straddled me jumping up and down like I was your personal pony and for some inexplicable reason your volume increases.)
“Mommy want to get up, mommy want to go downstairs, mommy I need a banana, mommy want to get up, mommy need some’tin yum-yum for my tum-tum, mommy want to go downstairs!” (Despite my every effort to ignore you for as long as possible since the sun hasn’t so much as peaked its beautiful head over the horizon, indicating that it is in fact another day…you will NOT be ignored.)
“Okay, okay, I’m up.” (Sigh, grumble, grumble.)
I somehow manage to stumble my way downstairs without dropping you, which is a feat in itself. Especially, since my eyes have yet to focus and I swear kid you gained weight since I last picked you up. I go for the banana that you specifically asked for, but that somehow pisses you off since now that we are standing in the kitchen, it now longer appeals to you and you are absolutely certain there is something better in the pantry and I must be holding out on you. (Oh cruel universe!!! How I just need a cup of coffee!)
The hits just keep on coming, because as I list for you the “acceptable” options for a breakfast hour food, you somehow only get more upset, until – God bless America – I finally offer something you can live with.
Now, you are finally sitting comfortably with your morning snack watching Curious George for the hundredth time. I finally get that steaming cup of clear-the-fog-coffee and sit down to savor every last blissful drop when you decide you want to sit next to me and I think – “Oh I love your sweet cuddles”, just before you jump up and spill that lava-hot nectar from the gods all over my lap. I shriek in pain as my much too thin pajamas do little to protect my tender thigh flesh.
And then, you give me that startled deer-in-the-headlights look before giving me the squishiest hug saying, “Sorry mommy, you’re okay mommy.” (Which totally melts my heart.)
You’re so cute I can’t even begin to be mad, but just so you know – you’re killing me kid.
Photo provided by Soul Adventures-Benoni Goose
Published by JM Sayles