Demon Baby woke up at 4:45 a.m. In the pitch dark.
He wanted juice.
I got him juice.
He wanted to be naked. He took care of that himself, and stripped out of his pjs. He climbed under the covers in my bed and, I thought, fell back to sleep.
Ahhh, sleep. At 5:00 a.m. this now eluded me. I had an hour until my alarm went off, and so my mind was already calculating "why bother?"--so I got up.
I came downstairs, brewed coffee, sat down to work on my other blog and answer emails. At 5:15, I heard the pitter-patter of Demon feet.
Stark naked in my office, he wanted to curl up on my lap. So I gave him a hug, then suggested clothing, a blanket, some cereal and quiet cartoons on TV. That seemed like it was a thumbs up.
Took care of that, came back to work. Within five minutes, he wanted more juice. Then a hug. Then different cereal. Took care of that. Sat down.
It was not yet 5:25.
The morning pretty much progressed like that. Within ten minutes, he was no longer shaking off the last bit of sleepiness and he was chatty. It never ceases to amaze me that his preschool says he can go an ENTIRE morning and not say one word. He was soon, here, launching into his Demon Manifesto.
I tried to settle him down with a sibling. No such luck.
Next thing I knew, he was in my office again, naked once again, and asking me to say cheese. I turned my head. "Why?"
"This is my camera."
He had taken apart the carpet steamer (we have to have one for obvious reasons) and found a part that sort of resembles a camera with a hole in it for the lens. I have no idea what this part does, but I can tell you, it does not take pictures.
I smiled. I said "Cheese."
He disappeared, I presumed to develop the film.
He returned. Still naked. "This is my knife."
He had found another part that could, vaguely, seem like a scabbard or something.
Now . . . me, a person of peace, sighed. It wasn't yet 6:00 a.m.
"Why do you feel the need for violence?"
"Woohoo! It's my knife!!"
"Again, Demon . . . violence is wrong. Peace is good. Why do you feel the need to HAVE a knife?"
He looked at me, still stark naked, like I was a complete imbecile.
"So I can slice up the monsters in your closet like an apple."
It's not even dawn.
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6 comments:
Of course he needs a knife. Those monsters in the closet are very scary. I know from experience.
His over-active imagination ensures he needs to be active to stave off boredom and those monsters so I feel for you but I also see no solution to your woes. Sorry.
LOL, Suzanne. THANKS so much. Ha!
Yes, a very overactive imagination. I actually had a conversation with one of my best friends. She is a child psychologist, and she is brilliant. Anyway . . . she told me if I didn't channel this I'll be in huge trouble (as if I'm not already). So . . . constantly looking for positive ways to channel him. But most of them exhaust me. Like gardening. I take him out to help me, but I end up lugging him in the wheelbarrow and having to do fifteen times the amount of work to get it done because even with that, he's off on these strange tangents.
People say he'll keep me young (I had him after 40). He's actually killin' me.
:-)
E
Aw, how sweet that he's trying to protect you from the closet monsters - and taking your picture to give to the cops in case they kidnap you.
anti-wife:
Or . . . he's trying to take my picture so he can SELL me on the black market and get himself a new mom.
E
ROFL Erica. An image of your sliced clothes comes to mind. Your demon baby is on his way to stardom. What an imagination!
You brought back a memory my husband shared with me from his preschool days.
Jeff's older sister had a date that arrived at the house while his mother was giving him a bath. She left him to greet the date. While his mother, his sister, and her nervous date sat in the living room, Jeff wandered into it naked.
Embarrassed, Lucille(Mom) said, "Jeff where is your MODESTY?"
Jeff jutted his chin in the air and said with hurt feelings, "You never put it out so I never put it on!"
His sister was mortified.
Thanks for the lovely comments on my blog. :D I remember our great WRR at E-Harl. What a time we had!!!
Hugs, Nancy
Hi Nancy:
LOL! That is too funny . . . I always lay out my boys' clothes, so I could totally see that.
And that WRR was a lot of fun! I made a great friend in Lainey.
And your pictures . . . just gorgeous!!!
E
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