Friday, June 19, 2015
Big Boy Bed
Mornings for the past few weeks have been earlier and more sudden than in recent memory.
Rather than a distant, if persistent, cry, wail or general agitation, it's there. Right there. Jumping into the bed with us, bouncing on us, pulling, tugging, yelling, licking and generally getting his way. "We're up! We're up!"
I had thought that he was making big strides. I thought that he could handle it. And he can. It's just me that can't.
By the third weekend, I was starting to feel we had this one figured out. A bit rough sure, but figured out. We were just going to have to get up when he did. I made peace with that.
So he changed it.
Sunday morning. Early. I heard the patter of the little feet, but instead of down the hallway to our room, I heard the stairs creak. I unclenched by body, conditioned by the mornings of Wrestlemania Volume 648. But no.
He'd gone downstairs. Quiet.
Was his brother up?
Could he handle the little guy?
For sure. They'll just watch some tv.
Could we sleep in? We went for it. Visions of sleep, pillows and actual rest dancing across my eyelids.
Still quiet. That was it. We were starting to drift off again.
Please let it be just one plaintive cry.
Ok, two was still fine. Maybe I could get that dream back.
If it's really important he'll come and get us, or his brother will. Right?
"I need Ketchup!"
This was getting more insistent by the moment.
"Ketchup! Ketchup! KETCHUP!"
Am I dreaming? Why the blazes does he need ketchup? Surely I'm hearing this wrong.
"KETCHUP . . . FOR MY MAC N CHEESE!"
But he's not yelling for Mommy to get the Mac N Cheese, which means, which means he already has it. Dreams of a morning sleep-in, or dare I say it, even a snuggle, were replaced with Mac n Cheese ground into the hardwood, with the pasta smeared on the walls, with all that dairy goodness adorning our living room couch. Did I mention we have a white couch? Or at least it used to be.
So yes. We were up. And every morning since.
Best not to think about it.