Jet’s alarm goes off every morning at 6:30. He’s allowed to push the snooze button once, but is supposed to get up when it goes off again. My goal here is to stop having to go up and drag his whiny-but-very-cute little kiester out of bed every morning. Yes, I know he’s only six. Yes, I feel like a horrible mother because I detest having to wake him up and get him out of bed. (The Mommy Guilt, it is inescapable.) Yes, I’m dreading the teen years; that’s why I’m trying to get him to do this on his own already.
While the alarm clock has helped the situation, there are still mornings when “it’s just haaaaard, Mommyyyyyyy”. (Ugh. I know. That’s just part of life, kiddo. Learn it early.) I have a very low tolerance for whining.
While Knight was gone, I had the kids in bed by 7:15 every night out of sheer desperation and self- (and kid-)preservation. Tuesday morning, I heard Jet’s alarm go off … and then again ten minutes later. As usual, it was not followed by the pitter-patter of six-year-old feet. I trundled up the stairs to rouse him and get Songbird going, and somewhere along the way, I remembered how much he had laughed when I threatened to start calling them minions.
So I stepped into his room and said, “Rise and shine, minion! Assemble de minions!”, in my best effort to sound like Gru.
And the lump under the covers didn’t whine.
So I said, “Minion!! I said, ‘Assemble!'”
The lump giggled again and said, “What’s ‘assemble’ mean?”
“It means get your tukus out of bed and get going!” (That sound you heard was Noah Webster, rolling in his grave.)
*More giggling, followed by a head peeking out* “Ok, Mommy.”
And, just like that, he got out of bed.
I can’t tell you how that giggle changed our whole morning. Flowers blossomed, little birdies sang, and the sun was wearing shades. (Okay, maybe not, but it sure felt like it.)
He is only six.
Going to bed early probably helped. A lot.
But I’m thirty-mumblety-mumble and sometimes I think it would be nice if someone else made me laugh first thing in the morning.