That is what the Kid said to me last night as I was tucking him in. The Kid is the jokiest! He was trying to get me to stay in his bed while he slept by being cute and funny. Which, to be honest, usually works. But, I was feeling the need to be in my own bed, sans stuffed animals and cold little feet. Also, I wanted to go and watch the season finale of True Blood 2 with Wolverine so I wasn’t caving in. This made The Kid go from laughing at his own joke to tears in about 60 seconds. Naturally, I caved in. The Kid was back to his jokey, non-tearful self in about 2.5 seconds, and also, was in no way tired. But, I was. He wanted a story, one that I tell that he embellishes, about a Prince, who ironically shares his name, and who has the ability to talk to animals. The Kid wanted to hold my hand, he wanted to lay on my arm. He wanted music. He wanted to hear certain songs over. He would not go to sleep. In the meanwhile, my eyes are watering and I start falling asleep while telling the story. Falling asleep while talking. The Kid jostles me awake, admonishing me for my drowsiness. His bedtime is at least an hour ago by now. Finally at some point he drifts off and so do I. I wake up at about midnight because I fell asleep on The Kid’s Orange Crush pillow, not a real pillow. Wolverine is snoring away, in the middle of our bed (!), and it’s way too late to catch some R-rated programming on a school night. Sigh. So goes an average day of Super Mon, Wolverine, and The Kid. I snarl at poor Wolverine to move his heinie over, get in the grown up bed, am immediately accompanied by an 80 pound lab who sleeps against my legs, and fall asleep. To be awakened at 5am to “MOM!” “Mama! I need a hug!” Oh, I know you’ve heard or read this from me before. It’s nothing new. But I don’t wear sleep deprivation well, and neither does Wolverine. And, neither does The Kid. Who would not wake up this morning. And, when he did wake up he was CRABBY! I mean super crabby! Intolerably crabby. And, so was his mama.
We’re having a little adjustment period since The Kid started his new summer program. The Kid started last week, but he already has threatened to quit once, forgotten to eat his lunch, declared that no one likes him, lost his glasses, fretted that one would recognize him without his glasses, declared he doesn’t need glasses anymore, and declared that he likes no one ( except for Ruby) “Well, Mom, I like Ruby, but that’s because she’s… you know, Ruby” Uh huh. The Kid has a tough time with transition. To be expected. I mean, we KNOW this, but it’s also sometimes like being asked to anticipate randomness.
You know, this parenting thing is good training for torture or POW camp times some days.
Kids and adults aren’t so different, I tell The Kid. Some days are heavy with worry and doubt and a refusal to put on our clothes, some days we hate everyone, and they hate us, some days we don’t want to eat what we brought for lunch, somedays we lose stuff, and some days we stay up too late.