I have a son, also known as “the boy.” This morning “the boy” decided to get up at 6:20am to get his chores done. Mind you, I stayed up late last night as is often the case when my husband is out of town. I was planning on sleeping until the last possible moment before beginning my day, but “the boy” is a rather loud boy. I was awakened to stomping on the stairs, screeches of the kitchen stools being drug across the tile floor, banging of broom handles, and clanking of dishes. After accepting there was no falling back asleep, I arose from my cozy, warm bed.
Although I reminded “the boy” to walk softly and clean quietly, my daughter was awakened an hour later to the sound of a machete chopping against our chain-link fence. Clang, clang, clang. It was close to her rising time, so she arose as well.
Needless to say, “the boy” has been banned from rising so early while the rest of the house sleeps. It did take me some time to fully awaken and even longer to fight off the grouchies. As we went out for a morning adventure, he skipped along in front of my daughter and me, no, he actually bounced along the sidewalk. Watching him go, I realized that this moment in time was fleeting. This sweet eleven-year-old boy who got all his chores done for the whole week early this morning, was soon to become a man, probably a loud man, but he would be “the boy” no longer. That is when the grouchies left.