Snoozus Interruptus

So all I really wanted for Labor Day was to sleep in. And both my kids managed to wake me up early over the long weekend.

;)

No big deal, really. One of them wakes me up EVERY weekend, what with his early-bird toddler ways.

The other has long since outgrown coming to ask Mommy for cereal and a drink, for a Pull-Up change, for the Saturday morning cartoons to be turned on, etc.

And, knowing how fast they go from bright-eyed announcements of "Look at me! I waked up!" to silent, stealthy creeping straight to the TV room... I don't deep-down mind the morning interruption.

The notable thing about both of them needing me this weekend, one morning after the other, was the vastly different styles the two brothers employ.

Miles, as just referenced, can be soft-footed and sneaky. Owen shows no restraint.

Saturday a.m., Owen up: First I hear a dream-like voice (maybe I was dreaming?) as he calls from his own room down the hall.... "Oh! I'm A-WAAAAKE!" Ugh. I roll over and squeeze my eyelids together. I hear our door handle give and then rustling feet... the drag of Monkey and Yummy Puppy across the carpet. Still squeezing, just in case he switches things up and goes for Daddy. No such luck. Seeing me "asleep," Owen goes for the stage whisper. "MOMMY. MOMMY. IS YOU SLEEPING? ....DON'T BE SLEEPING. TIME TO WAKE UP!" I mumble out something like, "Five more minutes!" to which he says: "Don't be looking at the minutes in your lil' machine [alarm clock]. Just waked up! Hurry and waked up, Mommy! To get me juice. I need juice. This minute. Right this one!"

Sunday a.m., Miles up: Something indefinite disturbs my sleep. Can't put a finger on it but something... is... different. I wake up with eyes still closed. Can I hear anything suspicious? No. Do I sense anything wrong? No. Do I really need to open my eyes? Yes.... because there is breathing to the right of me when I should only hear Jeremy to the left of me. A slow opening, one lid at a time... then BAM. There's a dark, skinny form hovering right above my face. "mom. um... mom?" he whispers. "do you know where my DSi is? I can't find it." Seriously, child? Still hoping I haven't said that out loud, the left-side breathing becomes a groggy voice: "I know where it is, son, and you're just gonna have to live without it until 8 a.m."

Oh, the Brandt brothers! No one will ever drive us parents as crazy, make us as humble or as holy, as these smart, serious, sassy, preciously goofball little boys.