Yesterday morning was spectacularly painful. Several bad nights with Charlie and early wakings from Cubby combined to leave me whimpering with exhaustion when I heard Cubby's feet hit the floor at 5:32 a.m. yesterday.
Literally whimpering. I think I cravenly said out loud, "I can't do this."
But I did, of course. I got up. I went downstairs. I found Cubby lying quietly on the couch. "Thank God," I thought. "He can stay here and rest while I get some coffee."
I said good morning quite pleasantly considering the circumstances, gave Cubby a kiss on the forehead, and informed him that I would get my coffee while he rested there.
Instead he bounced right up, announcing brightly, "I'll come with you!"
Shiiiiit.
He followed me into the kitchen, talking all the while. He found his truck on the floor of the kitchen and kept up a running commentary while I fumbled my way through coffee making.
Then he asked me a question.
Now, the thing about Cubby and questions is that if you don't answer, he'll just ask again. And again. And again and again and again and again, until finally you say something, ANYTHING just to stop the repetitive questioning.
He's not a quitter, that one.
I think this question was something innocuous like, "Why don't all cars go on the road?"
There's an easy answer to this (which, incidentally, he already KNOWS, which makes it kind of annoying): Because some are designed to go around race tracks. Or because there are monster trucks made to drive only in arenas. Or whatever. But I was in no shape to be forming any kind of answers.
He asked about five more times when I didn't say anything, and finally, I said quite reasonably, "Cubby, I need to just not talk for a few minutes. I'm very tired."
Pause, then at full volume from Cubby, "NO, YOU'RE NOT."
Uh. Yes, yes I am. "I'm too tired to talk right now."
"HOW CAN ANYONE BE TOO TIRED TO TALK."
Right. Not a problem he has, obviously.
"Because, Cubby, I need to wake up a little bit."
"BUT YOU'RE ALREADY AWAKE.*"
Well, yes. I am technically awake and moving, but my brain is still dead. This does not compute with a three-year-old, however.
Eventually I got my coffee made and Cubby calmed down. And that was the start to a day that also involved no nap from Cubby, a truncated nap from Charlie thanks to Cubby waking him up (ON PURPOSE) early, and Charlie escaping into the bathroom where he found the fascinating toilet water (GROSS).
But Charlie slept last night and today will be better. It certainly started better.
*Are the caps conveying the volume and shrieking of these statements? Because they were loud. And shrieky.
4 comments:
Oooh. I am so sorry. I would help you if I could. One day at a time, I guess.
-moi
I swear we are living parallel lives. The H and I are celebrating 10 years this August and the TOT is getting up super early these days and is in the "WHY" stage of toddlerhood. No question is too big or small. And she'll just keep asking and asking and asking and asking....
Oh man! I know how you feel! My 3 year old talks constantly (luckily mostly to herself or to her imaginary friends). She also asks "Why?" a bazillion times and expects a thought out and comprehensible answer. Of course, I did feel a little bit of pride when she asked her imaginary friend a question and answered it with "Because that's the way it is" -- which is my standard answer to her questions.
I'm certain there is some mothering equivalent to this situation for those of us with teenagers/college aged kids, but right now I can't think of it. And I'm grateful you're the one with toddlers.
Thanks for my Saturday morning laugh, though!
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