Saturday morning I dragged myself out of bed at 7am. I’m pretty sure I’d been mostly awake since about 6am, but kept closing my eyes and drifting back to sleep for a few minutes. I kept waking up to little sounds that I knew meant that my little ones were up and about, on the prowl, awake without me. And that would be ok except that our middle child is prone to wandering. On rare occasion, he’s left our house. And while it hasn’t happened for over a year, it’s not something that you soon forget.
7am…dragging myself out of bed, headed to brush my teeth, and a little face peeks around the corner and up the stairs at me.
“Good morning, Mommy!”
{Slight pause to try to form a response.} “Good morning.”
“I’m watching ____ cartoon!” {I forget which one he said he was watching.}
“Ok, baby. I’ll be downstairs in just a minute.”
“Oh, and Mommy? It IS 7am already.”
Like I wasted half my day. I have no idea what time he actually got up. He claims it was 6:51. That would be all right because it meant he actually slept in a little.
Fast forward to Saturday night. Kids are all bathed, clean, sparkly, shiny….well, maybe not sparkly…
Picasso - you know, the one who made me feel like I’d wasted half my day - came sliding down the stairs on his back side. He’s a kid, it happens. I’ve suggested he not do it, though, on account of … um … a lack of padding on his backside. But, he’s a boy. He’s supposed to do these fun things from time to time.
He got up, after bumping down the stairs, and rubbed his backside, seeming to be in a little pain. I felt badly for him, but chuckled at what he said:
“Well, that was a pain in the butt. And I’m being serious!”
I think he was trying to express that he was being literal - a literal pain in his backside.
So funny! Gotta love him!