Our oldest is an early riser.
Much to our chagrin, he rarely sleeps past 6 AM. We got a little stoplight alarm clock, and he’s not supposed to get out of his bed until the light turns green except to go to the bathroom. That worked for a while, but now I’m convinced, evil genius that he is, that he has trained his body to require an urgent trip to the bathroom at 5:45 AM.
Every. Single. Morning.
Once he’s awake, getting him to go back to sleep is akin to trying to harness a runaway reaction in a nuclear meltdown: you can try, but it will probably kill you.
So my mornings usually begin something like this:
*THUD* – The boy jumps, not climbs, jumps, out of his bed. With gusto.
*creeeeaak* – My half awake brain registers the fact that I should really hit that door with some dubya-D 40.
*SLAM* – He is fairly hulkish, and is still apparently unaware of how strong he actually is. The funny thing is, I think he’s actually trying to be quiet. It never turns out that way.
My wife and I are both awake by this point, in the bed, but neither of us acknowledges it. It’s like a game we play, and the winner gets to lay in bed for like, 15 more minutes, which is the tired parents’ equivalent of winning the frackin’ powerball. So he creeps down the hall, opens the door, comes into our room and picks the winner. Now, I am distinctly disadvantaged in this game, in that my side of the bed happens to be the one closest to the door, so usually, I’m the chosen one. The manner of choosing varies from day to day, from the super-creepy to the super-cute.
Some days he’ll just stand there staring at me, not saying anything, but telepathically screaming at me, “Hey slacker, I know you’re faking being asleep, so howzabout you get moving so we can do this potty thing?”
Other days, he’ll pucker up and just start kissing me, and I mean honestly, at that point it’s pretty difficult to be upset that I had to wake up a few minutes before my alarm.
Regardless of how the day starts though, one thing is clear: the whole “stay in bed until your light turns green” thing just isn’t really sticking. This, however, is not a unique phenomenon. Parenting is full of these intellectual impasses, and while the conversations can be maddening when you’re in the middle of them (for the eleventy-billionth time), they’re actually pretty funny. For us, they usually follow the same pattern:
I say something.
He looks at me like that’s the craziest thing he’s ever heard in his life, which might actually be true, since his life only consists of three years so far.
But then, one day, I’ll hear him talking to one of his little friends (and adults as well), and he’ll just drop some knowledge on them like it’s no big deal. I had a friend in town not too long ago who got the full treatment on what geologists were, how vulcanologists were a subset of geologists that study volcanoes and lava and magma, and what paleontologists do as well.
Boss.
So, this time of year…
–I know what you’re thinking: “Oh great. ANOTHER Christmas post.” And you’re right, but I’ve already sucked you in this far, and you’re invested, so you might as well just hang around for the punchline. Besides, the picture probably should’ve been a red flag, so you have no one to blame but yourself. :) –
So anyway, this time of year, we’re doing the hipster-Christian bourgeois thing and trying to be a little more intentional about Advent and Christmas. Now, while that might have a lot of meaning for us, I feel like the nuance might be lost on a three year old. So we stick to simple concepts: Christmas isn’t about presents, it’s about Jesus, Love, Family, you know, the important stuff.
So the other day, he got to go see Santa at the mall. (I know, we’re kind of sending mixed signals here with the whole Christmas thing. We never said we were perfect!) He did what you’d expect a three year old to do: he hopped right up on Santa’s lap and told him excitedly what he was hoping to get for Christmas.
But then, the sea parted and the heavens opened. Choruses of angels began singing “Hosana!” There were earthquakes and lightning and thunder and stars falling from the sky. Because something had actually stuck.
He pulled Santa close (he has this habit of grabbing both of your cheeks when he has something really important to say) and said,
“But Santa, Christmas isn’t really about presents. It’s about Jesus.”
So maybe the whole “stay in bed until the light turns green thing” will never stick and we won’t be able to sleep in again until they’re teenagers and sleeping like 14 hours a day. I’ll probably wake up tomorrow to the same thud/creak/slam that I do every morning, and I’ll still have to poor myself a second cup of coffee by 8 AM. But I can’t complain when I see how he’s genuinely more excited about giving gifts to his teachers and babysitters than he is about getting stuff or when I hear him giving Santa the what-for on the real meaning of Christmas.
The stuff that really matters, that’s the stuff that sticks.
So sweet! Did Santa say anything in return?
He did, actually. He talked about how he grows his beard all year in order to make Christmas special for kids, but also to have an opportunity to share the real meaning of Christmas with them. It turned our that our Santa was a big fan of Jesus as well, and instead of Santa making our kid cry, we flipped the script and our kid made Santa cry.
It will definitely go down as *at least* as memorable as last Christmas when his little brother had a blowout of epic proportions while on Santa’s lap.
We don’t really do things low-key, in case you hadn’t gathered that.
The cuteness just melted my face off a little.
Yeah, he has that effect on people.
Seriously though, he’s got a record-breaking streak of charming babysitters into giving him ice cream.
So cute! Thanks for sharing, Luke. I don’t have any kids of my own, but I do work with kids a lot, so this post made me smile. Oh, the impact we have even when we don’t know it!
Okay, let’s get this over with. It’s stinkin’ adorable.
BUT, the former children’s ministries professional is gonna get all serious and Jesus-y here for a minute (so this time, Luke, you have been warned).
What you are doing is amazing. Kids have this amazing ability to pick and choose what they will remember and abide by…anyone with kids or who has worked with kids figures that out right away.
The fact that he KNOWS what Christmas is about, and in the face of the promise of all his dreams of presents coming to pass has the audacity to tell the gift giver himself that he knows who the REAL gift giver is? That’s pretty flippin’ wonderful.
His spirit is already recognizing the reality of a living Savior. And I think that is wonderful.
LOVE THIS, Luke. It’s very late, I’m way behind on my reading, but you’ve just sent me off to sleep with a grand smile on my face. And for me, that’s pretty dang close to the frackin’ powerball thingy. :>)
This is so cute but also so very powerful x
I can only hope that Ethan will one day have an epic blow out on Santa. ha! But really, this is an awesome post and a great reminder that we need to always give our kids the best.
Love this! Besides the sweetness of your little guy grasping what Christmas is about, I can totally relate to that 5:45 potty run and that silent battle of which parent is going to be the one to get up.
btw, we have those fancy clocks and an (almost) 3-year-old too. Last week we started a sticker chart to motivate the little one to wait quietly in bed until his clock signals it’s okay to get up. He was so excited about earning stickers (and, ultimately, a trip to the Dollar Store when his chart was full) that he’s been doing a decent job. I’ll take those extra 15 minutes however I can get ‘em!