The last thing I remember was running through an airport with a group of friends trying to catch a flight to Paris. We were late. There was thunder and lightning and a shit ton of rain. The airport was HUGE and one of my friends kept stopping to take pictures of herself to upload to Facebook, which was seriously annoying because we were going to miss our flight. Then she sprawled out on the dirty airport floor and asked me to snap a couple shots of her because she neeeeeded a new profile pic, like, right that second. She wouldn’t let it go and get up off the floor. UGH! Fine.
That’s when I heard the clicking sound. It was happening every few seconds. Click-click. Pause. Click-click. I thought it was the shutter sound from the camera but then I slowly opened my eyes and registered the whole Paris-airport thing had been a dream. But the clicking was still there. I thought it was coming from outside my bedroom window. Then I heard it again, followed by the unmistakable sound of my son’s quick yet heavy footsteps. Oh no. I realized the clicking had been him fiddling with his doorknob, trying to open the door. I looked at the alarm clock and it was 5:15 am. It was still dark out. And he was headed for his sister’s room to wake her up. I shot up out of bed to stop him because I couldn’t fathom starting my day at 5:15 am.
I got to him in time and led him back into his own room. I cut off all his protests about wanting to get up and go downstairs and put him back in bed, saying that it was still dark out and everyone was sleeping and he had to go back to sleep for a little while. I turned on his music box, put his blanket over him and left the room. And (thank God) he stayed put and went back to sleep.
At 7:30 on the dot, he was back up and in my room. I knew there was no way he could be talked back into his bed so I dragged myself out of mine and followed him down the hall. He woke his sister up and bounded down the stairs. I went down, got them some juice and made myself a cup of coffee, listening to him run back and forth through the downstairs and wondering how he could possibly have the energy to go from sleeping to hyper that fast. I gave them their juice and had a few sips of coffee. My daughter was requesting a cheese stick, which I told her was not what she was having for breakfast and please, please, stop talking until Mommy has had her coffee. But she kept going on about the cheese stick, so I just ignored it. Then I looked over into the tv room at my son and he was curled up on the couch with his juice, eyes half shut, falling asleep.
Well that must be nice. Hmph.