“Mama. Mama. Mama.”
I peel back one eyelid and try to focus on the clock. 7:14 a.m. A mere 14 minutes longer than I get to sleep on a weekday morning.
“What is it, baby?”
“Can I snuggle with you?”
How can you say no to that? I throw back the blankets and invite my five-year-old to climb in next to me.
“You’re up awfully early for a Saturday,” I say. “Why don’t we try to go back to sleep for a little while?”
“Okay, Mama,” she answers agreeably enough, squirming her way into a comfortable position. She settles into stillness and is quiet. I let out the breath I’ve been holding and think maybe this going-back-to-sleep business will work after all.
My hope is short-lived.
THUNK rustlerustlerustle. THUNK rustlerustlerustle. THUNK rustlerustlerustle.
“Ellie. What are you doing?”
“I’m pretending my hand is a spider and it’s falling onto the covers and then crawling away.”
Of course it is. “I thought you were going to go back to sleep.”
“Well, I was. But I don’t think I’m sleepy anymore.”
“Let’s just be still for a few minutes and see what happens, okay?”
“Okay.”
Silence again. Then I feel tiny fingers walking their way up my arm, across my cheek and into my hair.
“Ellie. What are you doing?”
“The spider is back, Mama. He wants to walk on you.”
Of course he does. “Tell the spider Mama would like to finish sleeping. THEN we’ll play, okay?”
Ellie heaves a sigh that only the truly mistreated would understand, and lapses into stillness again. It lasts approximately three minutes.
Taptaptaptaptaptap. “Mama.”
“Yes, Ellie.”
“I want to watch TV.”
“How about this: you watch TV and I’ll go back to sleep. Okay?”
“Okay, Mama.”
I turn on the TV and Ellie scoots to the end of the bed to better concentrate on Phineas and Ferb. I drift back into a doze as the show’s theme music fills the room. Within minutes, my blissful slumber is interrupted by raucous laughter.
“Oh, Mama, did you see what Perry the Platypus did? He is SO FUNNY!”
I sit up abruptly enough to startle Ellie, who seems happy to see me in a vertical state. “Let’s go downstairs and find some breakfast, okay?”
“Okay, Mama. I’m glad we had a snuggle this morning.”
“Me too, baby. Me too.”
***
Emilie last slept in approximately 2004.
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