The Sixth Sense

You know, I’d like this to be about how I can talk to dead people, or see into the future or that I’ve got massive powers of telekinesis. (Okay, actually I do think I have a touch of clairaudience and I’m pretty sure I’ve done a little astral travel now and then. And I’ve *definitely* had sleep paralysis, but I don’t think that counts. Either way, I digress).

But no. This is more along the lines of how my kids know when I’m trying to sleep in. You know, when you’ve been up until 2 or 3 either writing, or editing, or reading, or playing WoW or whatever. And you’re thinking, well at least tomorrow is Saturday. I can sleep in.
But, no. No, you can’t.
It’s 6 am, and I hear a “thud, thud, thud, thud” coming down the hallway. “Mom. Will you come downstairs with me?”
“No. I’m sleeping. It’s like 6 in the morning.”
Nearly 6 year old gets on the bed and proceeds to play loudly with his transformers (or cars, or helicopters or whatever it is). I ignore for about 15 minutes. Which would be easier if I wasn’t constantly getting a foot in my face or whatever.
“Connor!”
“What, mom?”
“What part of ‘I’m sleeping’ don’t you get? Either be quiet or go downstairs or go in your room and play.”
“But I don’t want to go downstairs by myself.”
“Well, I’m not getting up yet. Go away and don’t wake Lucy up.” Connor gets off the bed and plays on the floor, a little quieter, but eventually volume rackets back up to “thundering”.
“Mom, is this transformer broken? I can’t get his leg to bend.”
I take a bleary-eyed look at it. I have no clue. “Dude. You’re trying to put a round peg into a square hole. I don’t think it goes there. I don’t know. Please be quiet or go downstairs.”
“I don’t want to go downstairs by myself. That’s borrriinnnnggg.”
“You want to know what else is going to be boring?”
“What?”
“When I break this thing and shove it up your ass.” (No. I didn’t say that. But I was thinking it. And you would have too. Trust me.) What I said was: “Spending the rest of the day in your room.”
3o seconds of silence.
“Hey mom, look at these quarters I found. They have buffalo on them. And here’s a dime. And a penny. How much is a dime and a penny?”
“You tell me.”
“Eleven?”
“Yup.”
“Hey, can you tie this anchor back onto this string? I need it so that Optimus Prime can climb up the wall.”
“The one you cut off your helicopter?”
“Yeah. I don’t want it on there anymore.”
“That’s good. Because I don’t think I could fix it.”
Well, this line of conversation goes on for about the next hour or so. At which point I give up and just get up. Of course, then he has to spoil my mood and tell me that he loves me.
And all is forgiven.
Until Lucy gets up.
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