August 31, 2011
My children are on two sleep schedules. During the weekend, they wake up and start roaming the halls (and making breakfast and playing freeze tag and fake sword fighting) at roughly 5am.
During the week, however, they act like I am poking them with sharp sticks when I ask them to get up and get ready for school.
In an attempt to sidestep the inevitable battle of the wills, I gave each child a small battery-powered alarm clock, programmed with the proper wake up time.
As I have quickly learned, this means nothing.
So far, my daughter is the only one out of the three who has managed to resist temptation. Her alarm goes off every morning at the appointed hour. Cortlen and Kellen, however, are enamored with the magic buttons. As a result, their alarms routinely go off at 2 in the afternoon, in the middle of dinner, or, if we are really lucky, every five minutes.
"Do not touch this," I said last night after I reset the clock for the billioneth time this week.
Both people inhabiting the bedroom promised to leave the contraption alone.
"Get up!" Cortlen screamed this morning as he ran, fully dressed, backpack on, into our bedroom. "We're late for school!" he screamed. "It's 7:30!"
It was pitch dark outside. "Go back to bed," I mumbled and glanced at my clock. It said 4:45am.
When I went to go wake him up a little over an hour later, he pulled his covers over his head and growled at me.
What I need, methinks, is a rooster.