Since my boy started high school, the funny episodes in the morning have slowed down considerably. It could be because hormones are turning him into a younger, male version of me, i.e grumpy, doesn’t do well in the mornings, hates sunlight… you understand.
I feel that I should illustrate the point.
A typical morning consists of me getting up only because Baby J is threatening to break glass with her good morning shrillness (to be fair, she doesn’t actually do this. She actually babbles quite sweetly in her cot for a bit and then says an enthusiastic ‘Hi!’ when she sees me. But the potential for shrillness is always there, at the back of my mind kicking me into action because at 5am that will hurt.)
It’s then all about the morning tea and coffee, which as I’ve mentioned in previous posts, sometimes involves a game of rock, paper, scissors but recently not so much as I just do it because I’m up anyway – and I get brownie points 😀
Then it’s onward to the deep dark depths of the boys room…
In his wisdom my darling husband decided that we needed to get our son a double bunk. That means it’s a bunk bed the size of a double bed. Uber cool for boys, utter crap for mothers. The main issue is I can’t physically get to him to drag his behind out of bed. He capitalises on this by hiding just out of reach (yes, I have poked him in the ear and tickled his nostrils before in an attempt to break through sleep fog. It doesn’t work, but it was fun to try. He has now subconsciously counteracts this by being millimetres too far for me to reach him without physically climbing the ladder – which is obviously not going to happen.)
A typical dialog will be like so.
“Morning!” (voice filled with sing-song-hate-inducing-carefully-cultivated sweetness perfected over time to elude the audio block that the male species uses to filter out most female voices)
“Iiiiiiiiit’s wake up time!” I say with gusto!
Nothing. Then amazingly.. “mmmpftmmmppphumftah”
“What was that, dear?”
“Why? Why now??” says a voice from the bunk tower.
“Er, because it’s time to get up. You have school and you need to get ready.” I say helpfully.
“NOOO! COME ON, REALLY?” He bellows, and then because that took every last ounce of energy he’ll follow that with.. “I’m coming, I’m coming. 5 minutes…”
20 minutes later I’ll venture in again. By this time I’m not a happy bunny and it’s always the same three things that have ruined my day…
- Oh no – he does NOT get to sleep in if I can’t
- Damn, I forget to go call him again after 5 mins
- I do not believe I actually thought he was going to get up.. IDIOT!
“BOY! I swear if you don’t get up now….” I start, when I get the classic line.
“Muuuuuuuuuuum, you don’t UNDERSTAND! You don’t know how HARD it is to get up. It’s not FAIR!!!!!’
It’s at roughly this time that I go to my happy place. And of course so does my son….