My son is a quiet and sweet little boy. Not your typical boy’s boy. He doesn’t loudly play with trucks. He does not run and jump and knock things over. He does not hit, bite, scream nor throw things. He plays with dinosaurs. He wants to be a paleontologist. He loves to give hugs and make peace. He loves to say goodbye to his Mommy in the mornings…and this is what is going to get him killed one day.
Out of my three kids, he is the early riser. I have visions of one day sleeping past 6:30am, but for now it is just a pipe dream. We still have baby monitors in the kids room (even though the “baby” is three-years-old). I can hear them sleeping peacefully and breathing softly (or as in the case of my oldest – mouth-breathing like Darth Vader). I can hear the cats padding softly though the house. And yet, somehow, my son was able to get out of bed, go to the bathroom and creep upstairs. I’m awakened at 4:00am by my son jumping up on the side of my bed screaming, “SURPRISE!”
I’m high strung, slightly paranoid, and mainly out of reflex of years of torture at the hands of my four brothers, I swing first and ask questions later. I almost knocked this kid in the face! As I fully came-to, I explained sweetly that he must not do this to Mommy…instead, if he feels the need to shout SURPRISE! At unsuspecting adults in the midst of nightly slumber – he should do this on Daddy’s side of the bed. Quite possibly, my husband would even sleep through this, and while I’d wake…the collateral damage would be minimized.
A few mornings ago, I was up and taking my belongings out to my car at 6:15am. I left the porch door ajar. I slinked back through the opening. I GASPED! I almost bashed the door (on purpose) into my son’s face. Here, this sweet little guy just wanted to hug Mommy good-bye; and is standing ram-rod straight behind the partially opened door in our pitch black dining room. His presence was given away by the whites of his eyes.
“Jesus, kid! That’s creepy! You can’t do that. [I start to think to myself that I need to tone down my reaction b/c he’s going to cry soon]. Give Mommy a hug… [I hear my husband in the shower already]. Now, go upstairs and tell Daddy that you’re awake.”
At this point, I have visions of Captain Stealth tiptoeing upstairs and standing mute outside of the shower curtain. I giggle for a moment as I imagine my husband flinging back the shower curtain to have his wits scared out of him as our oddly awake son just stands there staring at him. At this point, he jumps in terrified horror and slips in the shower, breaking his head open… “And make sure you tell Daddy you’re there!” I shoo him upstairs.
I grab my coffee and as I stroll out to my car, I take a moment to think of how cute he is…and how one day I’m either going to accidentally pop him one out of a fight or flight sense of self-defense, or I’m going to die of shock. Who said children should be seen & not heard?!?
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