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.
“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?”
“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.”
“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.
This entry was posted in Connor, grumpy as fuck, mornings. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to The Sixth Sense

  1. Snowangel says:

    Just so you know it's not just you. hehe

    My morning was started with *poke, poke, poke* Hey mom, it's get up time, put some real clothes on and now"
    My eyes were still sealed shut, I pried one open to see it was only 5:30! So I tried the "just 10 more minutes" thing.

    And.. it didn't quite work, so it was more bright shining smiles and poking me to tell me to get up. Quite the morning.

  2. ~Sia McKye~ says:

    lolol! Yah…thankfully, mine now 14 and so I can sleep in. When they were this age, either my husband would watch him or I was in bed early enough to get up with him without feeling like committing murder, lol!

  3. Snowangel says:

    Remembering now a weird sixth sense moment though. The Ouija Board at my house and how it flung a neighbor into a wall. I think you were there, it was too funny to see his face when he fell. Hehe.

  4. mynfel says:

    Ha! I remember that! Think I got rid of that Ouija board not too long after that…still have some tarot cards tho. 😉

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