All week long Cameron wanted to sleep in. I would haul him out of bed at 7:30 or later while he cried, screamed, and whined that he wanted to stay in bed. All week long I dreamed of a Saturday morning sleep-in. I figured 8:30 at least. I went to bed last night anticipating this.
He barely slept all night. “Mommy I have to peeeeee!” was immediately followed by, “Nononono I don’t want to get out of bed,” the instant I was in his room. After three of these I decided enough was enough, and carried him to the toilet while he probably woke our neighbours living downstairs.
At 6:50 I was woken to the lovely sounds of my son calling, “MOMMY! Sun is UP! Sun is UP!” He didn’t want to get up – he wanted me to snuggle while he wordlessly whined.
By 7:30 I got up and started Franklin for him, and went to my own bed. Then got up to get him milk. Then got up to get him cantalope. Then got up to get him more cantalope. Then spent five minutes with him demanding more while I told him there was no more. Then half an hour of “Oatmeal, Mommy!” in several variations of politeness and volume.
How did he know it was Saturday? I can’t help but feel somewhat resentful. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I hadn’t been thinking of it all week long, if he hadn’t changed his ENTIRE behaviour especially for Saturday.
Fine. I’m lying to him tonight. We have to get up in the morning, early, and hurry out the door.