It's Not Even Sunrise

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.

When Demons Run the World

The kid is amazing. Dimple like a canyon. Smiling eyes. Hoarse, raspy voice that is somehow funny coming out of this tiny little guy, all of 27 pounds dripping wet--if that. And a mind like a Demon. Quick. Funny.

And pretty darn seductive. I have no doubt that when he is leading the world, he will have minions. Henchmen. Sidekicks. All to do his bidding.

How do I know?

We're at the circus yesterday--which of course he loved. And he was having a great time. And all of a sudden, in the midst of the noise and the commotion of a huge circus show, he slings his arm around my neck, like some high school senior getting ready to try to cop a feel on his date. And he leans in really close, and says in my ear, "You're beautiful, you know." EXACTLY like that.

Like WTF? Not like an average 2-year-old, with "I love you ,mommy." Or "I'm having a good time." But this swaggering kind of Frank Sinatra persona.

I fear when he runs the world. I really do.