Let’s talk about mornings or as I like to refer to them after I ask the Mrs what time it is, “What the hell is a 5AM?!?!”. This is one of my favorite subjects when it comes to new parenting because it’s one that I really didn’t see coming. 4 weeks ago I was sleeping in until whenever my alarm would go off and sleepwalking nude until I realized in my stupor that I don’t own any curtains. Now, alarm clocks are rendered useless by a 3-yr-old that knows the exact programming schedule of the Disney channel. In my household I’m in charge of getting the lil’ one out of bed and making her presentable to the world which is interesting because I’m pretty sure I wore Weird Al Yankovic t-shirts until I was 15 years old. I thought having that on my wardrobe resume would keep me from those duties forever but desperate times call for desperate measures.
First, I would like to say that my step daughter is WAY more mature than any child is depicted in TV or movies. I know this doesn’t make for amazing conflict but its the truth. There’s no yelling, crying, screaming, or gnashing of teeth in my household in the AM. Things are usually pretty easy-going until it comes to hair brushing. OH, how I hate brushing hair! My daughter’s hair makes Rapunzel look like Sinead O’Conner. I’m fairly certain that if you were to take every hair that I comb end to end it would circle the world at least 9 times and every inch of it hurts apparently. Being a dude, I don’t understand the pain of hair combing as I haven’t run a comb through my hair since the Reagan administration. I just know that if someone were to listen to the screams they would be forced to assume that we are reenacting the scene from Jurassic Park where the raptors chase those ugly kids around the kitchen. God, that boy was super ugly!
Anyway, after that’s taken care of its time to get all her rations together for the drive to daycare. Getting her ready for daycare is like preparing her for a week of camping. You have to have a shirt in case it’s sunny. Another for cold cloudy days. A jacket for cloudy days. A rain coat for apocalyptic downpour. 3 changes of pants in case of….well….just in case. A blanket for nap time. Nothing in life makes you seem more like a crappy parent than the judging eyes of rotund daycare employees when she doesn’t have a coat or is wearing open-toed shoes. And if I do ANYTHING wrong the first person to hear about is the Mrs when she picks her up in the afternoon. We have a good laugh about it most times. For instance, I got “in trouble” with the daycare employees the other day because I fed my child a big breakfast. I don’t care if she won’t eat your greasy “cheese” slices. I’m pretty sure that if I don’t feed my kid I’m going to be in more trouble than that.
And I’m back from my soapbox, once Admiral Toddler is prepared for war it’s time for the trek out the door and down the road. These are the moments I live for because it’s just her and I and about 15 minutes of free conversation. She comes up with the most amazing questions and it’s my job to come up with an answer other than “I don’t know”. And you know that once you come up with something brilliant to retaliate with you will be caught off-guard with a “Why?”.
Actual conversation between the lil’ one and I last week:Lil’: “Does God have a car?” Me: “I don’t think so.” Lil: “Why?” Me: “Because there are no roads in the sky.” Lil: “Why?” Me: “Because where he’s going he doesn’t need roads.”
Thanks for the help on that answer Doc Brown from Back to the Future.
And it’s moments like that that make it worth missing the last hour of that dream about the lingerie Super Bowl to pull myself out of bed to stare both 5 AM and Mickey Mouse Clubhouse directly in the eyes while I scramble up some eggs with ketchup.