My daughter is a fountain of funny kid stuff.
Every evening, my daughter tells me when she would like to wake up. Last Thursday, she told me to wake her at 5 a.m. so that she would be awake by 6 a.m. to study for a test. I have no idea why it takes her an hour to wake up, but it’s her beauty sleep so I go along.
Five a.m. I woke her, saying “Sweetie, it’s 5 o’clock.”
“I’m tired!” she groused.
Five fifteen. “Peanut, it’s time to get up.” Grousing was the reply.
Five thirty. “You told me you wanted to me to wake you at five. It’s five thirty.” Again, grousing.
Five forty five. “Leave me alone!” was the reply.
At six a.m., I told her it was six a.m. and went downstairs to make my tea, telling her I was going downstairs to make my tea. I left her grousing self to get dressed.
At seven a.m., I came up stairs. (Even at seven, she had plenty of time to study.) I was greeted like this:
“IT’S SEVEN O’CLOCK!! I’M GOING TO FAIL MY TEST!!! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WAKE ME UP!”
“Sweetie, I tried waking you up for an hour.”
‘NO, YOU DIDN’T!!! A NORMAL MOM WOULD HAVE GOTTEN ME OUT OF BED!!!!”
Confused, I said, “What was I supposed to do that I didn’t do? I tried to wake you up and you kept telling me you were too tired.”
“If you were a regular mom,” she said, “you would have said, ‘GET YOUR ASS OUT OF BED!’ “