Saturday Morning

Saturday Morning

6:22 am

My son all jittery

He knows that this should be a day that Daddy is home

But Daddy is working

“Let’s go downstairs” he whispers loudly

I turn on the TV and get him a “snack”

It consists of apples, cheese, and mini berry-flavored rice cakes

Go feed baby

Come back and eat oatmeal

Attempt to curl up on the couch and sleep

“Not today!”

This is his internal mantra, I think

Periodically, he jumps on me, just as I am drifting off

He leans his face into mine and breathes on me

“Don’t do that.”

Brief respite, and then

A strange, loud, nonsensical utterance

“Be quiet, Mommy is trying to rest.”

He gives up…sort of

He begins to pick up all his toys, which means he loudly throws things into the toy box, causing me to wonder what in the world he is doing

He’s cleaning?!?

I feel guilty, so I go and finish gluing these little animal crafts we started the other day

The glue it came with didn’t work

Neither did super glue, unbelievably

It’s time for the hot glue gun

Third time’s a charm

He is happy

He wants to use the squirrel as a hockey puck for the other animals

I guess that’s the difference between little boys and little girls

Wake up, son number 2

“You want some bamanas?”

(Yes, I said bamanas)

Yes, no, yes, no

He’s two, he has no idea, or can’t express it

Right now he screams at me for giving him what he asked for

“It’s just a phase”

I tell myself

“Mommy can you make us a tent like you did yesterday?”

Chairs and blankets and the couch and the doors from our armoire that were beginning to come off anyway

A little lamp so they can see to “read” their books

“Mommy, I don’t really like this tent. I like the one from yesterday.”

Some thanks I get

10 o’clock

It’s only ten o’clock?

Saturday morning