Morning Person

I get it.  I am a morning person myself, and I love being a morning person.  I get the feeling, the rush when your eyes flip open and you realize a new day has arrived full of possibilities and responsibilities, and the need to get up and get started.  I love the renewed energy in my muscles and the freshly firing synapses in my rested brain.  I love that glorious few hours when the house is quiet and I can go exercise, read, or sneak around and get things done while my family of hooligans snoozes away.  Morning are magical, and I am a morning person.

Unfortunately, so is Luke.  The earlier the sun gets up, the earlier he gets up.  And right now in mid-July, that is pretty darn early.  Dare I say it, too early for me.

My timer is usually set for 5am, though often I wake up earlier and just can't go back to sleep. (my lucky number is 3am.  If I wake up anytime after 3am for any reason, I can't go back to sleep.)  But in the summer since my kids don't have to be off to school in the morning, I indulge and set my alarm to 6am.  Usually I am up at 5 anyway.  But when I need that extra hour in the summertime, it is so nice to get it.

But now I have this sunny-side-up three year old who rises early, and wants to rouse the entire family with him - starting always with me.

This morning he got up and decided to get some bread and honey for himself, and some for me too.  He came into my bedroom with the two dripping slices of bread, and laid one of them on my chest as I was sleeping.

"One for me, one for Mom," he announces.

"One what?" I think as I  roll to my side.  I quickly discover the "what" at the same time as a sticky little kid in a puffy nighttime diaper climbs into bed with me.

"Sun up!  Mom!  Sun up!  See!"  he exclaims as he pulls my eyelids back and turns my head toward the window to show me proof that the sun is indeed up.  "See.  Sun.  Up!"

There was no denying it.  The sun was definitely up.  But this morning, at least, my body didn't want to be.

I sent my sticky wake up call off to the kitchen with his drippy toast and told him to go wash his hands.  Then I attempted to fall back asleep, trying to ignore the glaring sun and the stickiness all over me.

Soon the bedroom door opens again and Luke is toting a full gallon of milk, a sippy cup, and a lid.  "Mom, sun up.  Sun up NOW!" and tosses the gallon of milk on the bed with a thunk.  Luckily, the lid doesn't pop off.

All right, all right!  I'm up already!  Up to fill a sippy cup with milk.  Up to find honey all over my kitchen, a refrigerator hanging open, and a basketful of clean folded laundry dumped on a sticky floor.  An invigorating morning!  I'd love to go swimming, but don't dare leave my early riser awake alone in a house full of dreamers.

Last week I woke up to "Mom, hode dis!  Hode dis."  My back was turned to him, and I was still half asleep with my eyes closed when I absently-mindedly reached behind me to hold whatever it was Luke needed me to hold so he could climb into my bed.  I discovered real quick what it was I was supposed to hold when ice water poured down my back, not in a sippy cup apparently.  Yikes.  Talk about a wake up call!  I hopped up out of bed as fast as a fireman with a midnight alarm. Luke was standing there watching me with a huge grin on his face.

"Sun up, Mom," like he is sharing some terrific news, "Sun UP!"

Teenager Troubles

Yes, we are having teenager troubles.  Not with my 13 year old, or even my 12 year old.  This story is about Caleb.  He is five.

We went to the park this morning.  Caleb is in afternoon kinder. It was a dreadfully hot day so most of the kids were playing in the water feature.  All of the kids were tiny - shirtless toddlers in diapers.  Caleb was by far the biggest kid there.  So he was at the water feature all of three seconds before he ran off, obviously upset, to the other side of the park, where he just moped.  I could not figure what I or anyone had done to make him so upset.  So I went to go talk to him and ask him what the matter was.  "I can't go play in the water,"  he explained.   I told him that of course he could.  "But I'm not allowed to! " he protested.  I thought he meant I didn't want him getting wet, so I assured him that he could change before school if he got wet. He said, "I'm not allowed to because the water is just for babies."  I told him that that wasn't true, and pointed out that the mommies were playing in the water too, not just babies.  "It's only for mommies and babies," he insisted, "but not teen-age-ers." This was said in an ironic tone, that sounded pretty teenagerish, actually.

"So?" I said, not quite getting his point, "you're not a teenager.  Go play."

"I KNOW I am not a teenager, but everybody THINKS I am a teenager!"

I had to laugh out loud.  "Hon-ey, you might be big for your age, but NOBODY thinks you are a teenager."  

He is five, granted a gigantic five, but looks all of seven, tops.

He just started crying.  "EVERYBODY thinks I am a teenager.  Those moms do, and they don't want me to play with their little kids.  They think I'm a teenager, and nobody likes teenagers!"

Poor little guy.  There was nothing I could say to convince him that he really didn't pass for a teenager, and my amusement really wasn't very amusing to him. He was convinced that everyone thought he looked like a teenager, and nothing I said could convince him otherwise.   

We ended up leaving the park... and his childhood ... behind him.

Have compassion.  We all know adolescence is tough, but it especially rough when you are only five.

Only Two Exceptions

Caleb was having a VERY bad day, because he wasn't allowed to do a few things that he was just too young for.  He came into my room fuming mad and announced: "Everything in the whole world is super dumb!" (Don't we all feel like that sometimes? I sure do!)

 Then came the exemptions.  "Everything is dumb EXCEPT only for my Grandpa that died, and Jesus.  They are NOT dumb.  I don't want grandpa or Jesus mad at me, but everything else in the whole world is super dumb!"  

That kid knows how to cover his tail, doesn't he?

DEREK by Derek

For Christmas, Derek gave me a laminated copy of his poem - all about him.  It is EXACTLY him.  It cracks me up because Derek is a one-in a billion type of kid.  Glad to see he knows himself as well as I do.  My comments are in italics.  This is Derek:

DEREK

I am adventurous, weird, and smart.

Right on all three accounts.

I wish I was a super hero.

Constantly! He is always coming up with the perfect superpower.

I dream of going to Mars.

Where else?

I want to learn how to spell better.

Me too!

I wonder about top secret stuff.

Yes, and he wonders out-loud about it all the time.

I am afraid of Monsters.

It takes a brave man to admit his fears.

I believe in Heavenly Father.

Yes, yes, yes - bearing his testimony in school even.

I like lettuce.

Loves it.  He did say he was weird... and smart.

I love ligers.

Yep, he and Napoleon.  We hear a lot about Ligers around here. (They ARE real you know.)

I love my family.

Ding, ding, ding - This kid is winning points all over the place!

In high school I want to learn languages.

To get ready for his mission, no doubt.

When I grow up I want to be an insurance man and an archaeologist.

A cross between his dad and Indiana Jones - a recipe for success.

DEREK

I am absolutely crazy about that funny kid!  He has brought so much joy and life into our home since the day he was born.  

Thanks for the poem Derek!  I'll treasure it.

P.S. You ARE my superhero.  You have the power to make me laugh!

Caleb on Rain and Santa

Oh the wisdom of a 5 year old.

Yesterday, on the drive to kindergarten in the rain.  Completely serious, Caleb reports, "Rain... is pee... from God."  He has the world all figured out.

Then after school, he explained the nature of Santa Claus to me.  "Mom, not all Santas are real.  There are only four real ones, all the others are NOT real."  How do you know which ones are real?  "Mom... you'll know."  How come there are four real ones?  "Mom, this world is too big.  So there is one Santa for this part of the world (Caleb uses his arms to section off the world around him, north, south,east, and west,  like giant slices of pie.) and one for this part, and one for this part, and one for this part."  OK, that makes sense. "Yes."  Is there a Santa here?  "Yes, but our Santa is far.  They are all far because everything close is warm, and everything far away is cold."  You got that right kid!  How about your cousins in Texas, do the have the same Santa as us?  "Which way is Texas?"  I point East.  "Yes, they have the same Santa we have."  How about your cousins in Oregon?  "Which way?"  I point North.  "No.  Different."  What about Lisa's kids.  They live in Rancho Mirage.  "What way?"  I point West.  "Different."  But they live here in the desert right near us.  "No.  Different."  So apparently we were sitting right in the vortex of Santa zoning.  The whole world was divided in quarters, and we happened to   be right at the four corners of it all.  Amazing.  So Caleb, do all four Santas look alike?  "Mom, you know what Santa looks like."  Are they twins?  That one got no reply, just a look like I was really stupid.  

So Caleb, which Santa lives in the North Pole?  "They all do."  They all live together?  "No, Mom.  Thats silly.  They all live in the North Pole, because there are four North Poleses."  I thought there was only one North Pole.  "No.  Four.  They all have their own Elvises too. "  Elvises?  "Yes, little Elvises.  They are small."  Elves?  "Mom, thats what I said."  Oh.  So Caleb, what is our Santa going to bring you for Christmas?  "I hope diamonds."  Diamonds?  That kid dosen't mess around.  Why diamonds?  "Because they are made of gold!" (duh!)  Oh.  Do you think the Elves can make diamonds?  "Probably not."  No, probably not.  What if Santa can't bring you diamonds?  "Then I want a big motorcycle!  A real one.  What do you want Mom?"  Diamonds, definately.

And then this fantastic line this morning:  "I love the rain.  Rain is good for dancing!"  

Caleb, I completely agree.

Caleb's Got Game

S is for spider.

Tonight we had family home evening.  As we were getting ready to have our closing prayer, Caleb announced that he had a game for us to play.  My initial reaction was to think that it really was getting late and we didn't have time for some silly game he made up on the  fly.  But instead I indulged him and let him do his thing.  I was surprised.  He had a game that he had planned in advance and really put a lot of thought into.  He was so thrilled that he was given the opportunity to have us play it.

Caleb is 4, and just started Kindergarten.  He loves it!  In his class they study a different letter each week.  They practice the letter, eat food that starts with the letter, and the teachers even dress up as something that starts with that letter.  Last week was 'S', which is why Caleb made that lovely googley eyed spider hat above.  He calls it a "pider" - so much for all the 'S' training.  This week it is 'M'.  Yesterday Caleb came to me with a little baggie with dozens of little 'S's and 'M's that he had obviously cut out from somewhere.  He was so excited.  "I found m's and s's!"  I was a little concerned and asked him what books or magazines he had found those letters in, but he couldn't remember.  Yikes! I guess I'll find out soon enough. I quickly located for him a stack of old magazines and he continued merrily cutting out tiny little letters all morning for his little baggie.  I don't know what he is planning on doing with them.  Maybe he can use them for ransom notes one day.

So Caleb stood up at FHE to introduce his game very authoritively.  He handed everyone a new, not-for-cutting magazine, and announced that we were going to have a race.  When he said go, we would each have to find a capital 'S', a lower case 's', a capital 'M', and a lowercase 'm'.  When we found all 4, we would raise our hand, and he would come check our answers.  He had another little baggie that contained little strips of paper that he had carefully written each of our names on.  After showing him our found letters, we had to close our eyes, and stick our hand in the baggie and pull out a slip.  If it was our own name, we won.  He had really planned this and was very clear on the rules of play.  We all had fun playing his game.  Derek cheated and Caleb yanked his magazine away and told him he was out of the game.  Too funny.  Caleb was thrilled at the success of his game, and I was pleased that it didn't last too long.  Caleb is such a cute, one-of-a-kind kid.

Oh, and he is so funny because a school when a kid does something good, they earn a reward called a "Super U" that they can accumulate and buy prizes with at the "Super U" store.  Only Caleb always calls it a "Super Me."  Now thats a kid with confidence!

I also love that he calls a watermelon a "waterlemon".  That cracks me up every time.

Caleb on Being a Man

If you have never had a deep philosophical discussion with Caleb, you are really missing out. That kid loves to pontificate and is wise beyond his 4 short years.

The other day I told him to put a shirt on. He replied, "I can't. A man doesn't wear a shirt."

"What?"

He continued by explaining that one is either a human or a man. If you're a man, you're not a human, and vice-versa. (OK, so far I agree.) He went on to tell me that if you're a man you don't wear a shirt, especially when it is very cold, but when it is very hot you wear a heavy shirt. If you are a man you don't wear shoes when you walk on hot pavement and you never wear sunblock (he gets that from his father). A man gets a tall ladder and goes and sits up on his roof.

"Really?" I ask.

"Ya mom, I KNOW," as if I had before me the ultimate authority on manhood.

Then I asked a really stupid question, "Are you a man?"

"Ya-ah" (as in "du-uh.")

I asked if Luke was a man, and he looked at me as if I was completely off my rocker. "Mom, he's a BABY!" So at 2 you're a baby, but at 4, your a man. Got it.

Then I ask an ever stupider question. "Caleb, I am not wearing shoes. Am I a man?"

He just looked at me. "Mom," his eyebrows furrowed as if I had completely lost my mind, "you are NOT a man."

"Good," I said, "because I don't want to be a man."

Apparently I had spoken heresy. "What!? Mom, tell the truth!"

"It's true. I don't want to be a man."

He starts to get steamed, "Mom, no lying!"

"I'm not lying. I like being a human and a woman."

He just rolled his eyes at me as if I was ridiculously hopeless, and deep inside, he knew, I must really want to be a man. How could anyone not want to be a man?

Maybe Caleb is right, and somewhere deep down inside of me I want to be shirtless, shoeless, sitting on a hot roof with no sunblock. Naw.