TO: Monkey Man
FROM: Your Mother
DATE: October 23, 2009
RE: Your Sleeping Habits
As per this past week’s wake-up schedule, I am ordering you to sleep later. We’ve had several discussions about your readiness to take on the day at 5:30, and after ignoring my 5 requests, I’m making demands. You are not a 4 week-old with a tiny belly unable to hold more than 3 hours worth of food. You are 4.7 years-old and completely capable of waiting until the sun rises to start screaming at me that, “I want waffles. No, I want oatmeal. No, no, waffles. I want to play the Wii. I want to put on my Luke Skywalker costume.”
You wonder why your mother is a cranky bitch in the morning? It’s because mornings and I already don’t get along very nicely, and then we add in your very cute, but constant chatter. I don’t enjoy the simple sound of your father’s breathing in the morning, let alone questions like, “Do you think a tiger or a shark would hurt worser? Who’s older, you or daddy? Is a spaceship faster than a car? Do I have swimming class the day after tomorrow or the day after the day after tomorrow?” It’s just exhausting.
You will be 13 in just 8 ½ years. I am fully expecting on the day you enter your tumultuous teen years, you will sleep until noon. I dream about that day, the day when I, too, can actually enjoy a Saturday morning in bed. Without some Disney or PBS show on in an attempt to keep you quiet. I will not be that mom who yells at you to rise and shine and start your day. Nope, no worries there, Monkey Man. I will be in the next room in sweet, Saturday morning slumber, enjoying every minute getting back the sleep you’ve stolen from me since that precious day you were born.