D is not what you would call a ‘morning person.’ He does not ‘rise and shine.’ He may consider ‘wakey wakey eggs and bakey,’ but only if you are actively waving cooked bacon under his nose. No, D falls out of bed in the morning, rumpled and groggy, and then zombie-shuffles his way across the bedroom floor. His eyes won’t actually open for another twenty to thirty minutes. It’s kind of cute, really. Except for if you try and ask him a question, which he’s been known to answer with something random, like, “Noodle loves to love bonbons.” In my experience, it’s better to avoid any sort of questioning with D before noon.
I think this behavior is genetic. The Peanut is most definitely not ‘a morning person.’ She also does not ‘rise and shine,’ and she certainly will not get ‘up and at ’em,’ ThankYouVeryMuch. Even when she wakes up on her own, she’s usually not happy about it. When I go into her room in the morning, I usually hear a muffled, grumbled ‘No,’ coming from under her blankets. If I try and rush her through this process, you can guarantee that the morning will dissolve into a mushroom cloud of screams and flung stuffed animals. I usually wake her up in stages. I go in and just turn on the light. Then a few minutes later I might come back and rub her back a bit. And then a few minutes after that, I might peel the blanket off her face. Etc. etc. etc.
Sometimes even that isn’t enough to make the idea of being conscious before noon acceptable to the Peanut.
Yesterday morning, when I got the Peanut up, she didn’t want to use the potty. She didn’t want to take her medicine or vitamin. She didn’t want to wear clothes (naturally). I tried to “Love and Logic” my way through the morning. Here’s how it would go.
Me: Peanut, do you want to wear the pink shirt or the purple shirt.
Me: Well, we have to pick one, or Mommy will pick for you. What’s it going to be. Pink or purple?
Eventually I would say, “Okay, Mommy’s picking for you!” And jam the purple sweatshirt over her head, while she would scream and flail about. Those parenting books that say you’re supposed to give your toddler choices don’t say what you’re supposed to do when your child just. won’t. choose.
I left the Peanut sitting in the middle of her bedroom floor, reluctantly dressed, vitamin-ed, and crying, while I finished packing up my bag. When I came back in, she was still sitting there, head hung, sniffling.
I rubbed her back. “Think we’re ready to give today a shot?” I asked.
“I jus’ wanna No.” Peanut said.
“You just want to ‘No?'” I asked.
“Yeah.” Peanut confirmed with a sniffle.
She “just wants to no.” It’s perfect. Don’t we all feel that way some mornings?