It’s crazy town at the house in the mornings.
That’s why on school mornings I make sure to get up at least an hour or so before the kids to begin preparations for the day.
I have come to the conclusion that harried mornings will just be the norm at this point. The latest development complicating things is the kids have found the love of sleep. This has been something we have been looking forward to after many years of active early mornings. Up until about six months ago, neither of my boys ever slept past 6 in the morning. I’m an early riser by nature, but that meant to be showered and ready for them I was up well before 5 a.m.
Nowadays, they are embracing sleep. It’s almost to the opposite extreme now, as we have to wake them up on most school mornings.
It can be challenging to get them moving in the mornings. Beckett has become the most difficult. The waking up process begins with a few alerts, which begin tame, nice and loving, and then escalates eventually to lights being turned on and covers being removed. If that doesn’t get him moving, I let Carson loose in his room and that always does the trick.
In loving brother fashion, that usually involves shades being flung open, books being piled on top of his big brother, a laundry basket being dumped on the bed and occasionally a few slaps to the face (which I do not condone, of course).
For his part, Carson has found the love of sleep, too, but once woken up he pops up immediately so long as he can get a piggyback ride downstairs. He can go from a deep sleep to awake and ready within seconds. It amazes me. He will sleep in but is a light sleeper and easy to get out of bed, although he’s reluctant to get dressed for school by himself and is not anxious to leave the house each morning.
If we are running behind, which is often the case, there are some mornings when they literally get out of bed, eat breakfast, get dressed and brush their teeth within 30 minutes. Inevitably, one of the kids — sometimes both — will not be able to local a critical piece to their attire or school world. It might be a shoe, a homework folder or a jacket, but it’s always something, resulting in me hurdling steps and feverishly searching the house.
One day I found Carson’s homework folder in the freezer next to the ice pops. Another morning I found the shoes Beckett needed for “P.E.” class in the washing machine in the laundry room. Apparently, they were dirty and he thought if he put them in the washer they would magically get clean. I made a note to talk with him about that at a later point in time. On yet another morning, I found Beckett’s glasses on the soap dish in the shower. That didn’t need any further investigation as apparently he forgot he had them on when he got in.
Those sorts of strange antics have taught me to look anywhere and everywhere if something is missing. Invariably there is something every day and more often than not I end up forgetting something.
Electronics have never been Carson’s thing, but that appears to be changing.
Ever since being introduced to the game Crossy Road (think of the old-time Frogger with a few new wrinkles), he wants his Kindle all the time. While we try and monitor both of the kids’ screen time, there are times, especially on road trips, when they are needed and help to provide some down time.
Up until recently, Carson, 6, was never one to pick up his device and stay on it for a period of time. Beckett, 7, on the other hand, would spend hours on his iPad or xBox if left unchecked.
The new popular game for Carson is Crossy Road, but he likes to make sure someone is watching him or at least taking turns with him. It’s a competition thing I think.
It’s quite funny to be driving and observing him playing in the back seat. When he does well, he’s quick to give a slap to the back of my head so I can see his score. If things don’t go well, he always claps his hands and gives himself a thumb down. It’s like he’s taunting himself and is hilarious to watch.
Nobody makes me laugh these days like Carson, whose goofy personality is always on display despite the fact he does not have a voice yet.
While helping him with his pajamas the other night, he started laughing hysterically. I just went along with it, assuming it was because I was down on my knees and essentially begging him to lift his feet.
That turned out to not be what had tickled him. He pulled my head up, pointed to the hair on the top of my head and signed, “white,” while indulging in a huge belly giggle.
I let him know I appreciated him pointing out the ever-present change in my hair color. He then went and started looking for a mirror so I could see for myself.