Every morning for the past infinity days, we have had to drag my daughter out of bed and rush her crying off to school because, like her father, she is a night owl. She stays up in her bed reading until who-knows-when, and mornings are not her time to shine. I empathize. If I could murder the morning for good, I would. You know this. My son, on the other hand, is always up at the crack of torture, ready to jump, shout, party, and go. Huzzah.
As luck would have it, my daughter’s school starts a full hour before her brother’s preschool, so the person that does not need to be anywhere anytime soon, is the one watching Octonauts at 6:15 while the adults stumble around in the dark stepping on Legos, and the one who needs to get up and go is the one sobbing violently into her cereal at the prospect of starting another day. This has been the pretty-much-every-day pattern of the last school year.
6:15 – Edward wakes up.
7:00 – Ruby needs to wake up.
7:45 – Ruby wakes up.
8:00 – Edward needs to wake up.
8:05 – Ruby leaves for school 5 minutes late complaining that she is being rushed
8:53 – Edward’s bus takes him to school
There is very little variation to this. But yesterday was the LAST DAY OF SCHOOL! YAAAAYYYYYY! We went to a last day of school party at the home of our youth pastor and friend, Rumple Station. Rumple and I needed to plan out Vacation Bible School anyway, and our kids wanted to hang out, so it seemed like a party would be the perfect disguise for a meeting. And we stayed there until well after bedtime. After all, SUMMER VACATION!
Everyone was up until 1-2 hours past their bedtimes, and they were slightly grumpy, but with no school looming, I informed them that we could all sleep in, knowing that this only applied to Ruby since I would certainly be up at 6:15 trying to sleep on the couch over the sounds of Doc McStuffins.
At 6:50 this morning, Edward and I were awakened by a bouncing and bubbly Ruby, super excited about whatever was coming her way today. “Noooooo!” groaned Edward. “RooooBeeeeeeeeee! I’m tryna Sleeeeeeeeeep!” he screamed, pulling all the covers off of me and over his head, since he had apparently decided to spend the second half of the night in my bed. But Ruby would not take no for an answer. She poked him. She made chipper jokes and sunny observations, and at 7 o’clock we were all downstairs fighting, since technically nobody had had much sleep and our coping and relating abilities were drowsy.