One of the rules at our house is that The Boy must stay in bed until 6 a.m. If we didn’t have that rule, he would get up at goodness only knows what time. He is an early riser, a morning person. The Man and I don’t know where he gets it from. Actually, that’s not true. I was a morning person before I had The Boy. He stole it from me.
Very often, he comes in on or around 5:30 in the morning and we must remind him to go back to his bed and stay there until the clock in his room says 6:00.
Time has been a very big deal to him lately. On Wednesday we were driving to church and he stated the time every minute until we got there. “It’s six! Six o’clock. That means my school is closed.” “6:01” “It’s 6:02!” With such excitement and shock, as though he didn’t know what number was coming next.
This morning he came in at 5:30, and was very disappointed to be reminded that it wasn’t six yet. It appeared to be laborious for him to walk back to his bedroom, dragging his blanket behind him. He stayed in there until six, well “6:01” exactly, according to him. And he proudly stated, “I counted until it was six. I counted to one hundred and nine.” I can’t believe his resistance to sleeping. I knew I only had thirty more minutes to sleep, but I took the opportunity. Why is counting more appealing to him that sleep? I want to grab his tiny little shoulders and tell him, “There is no other time in your life when you will have this much of a chance to sleep so much. Stock up now!” But I am so glad that he looks forward to his life so much that he can’t bear to waste another moment sleeping. It makes me feel like we must be doing something right.