Morning Mia

Today Mia woke up at 6:30.  We don’t get her out of her crib until 7am in the hopes that ONE DAY she will learn to sleep until 7.  It worked like a charm for Toby; so far with Mia - not so much.

Every morning she attempts a new strategy to woo me into her room earlier than 7am.  This morning she was particularly enticing.  She started by going from zero to full-fledged 80 decibel shrieking in less than 8 seconds.  I swear that kid exits REM sleep and goes STRAIGHT to ear piercing shrieks with such talent I lie in bed in the mornings (with my pillow folded over both ears) wondering what occupation this particular skill set will be useful for.  If firemen needed to echo the screams of the firebells in instantaneous synchrony I swear, Mia would have been put on earth for exactly this purpose.  (I really should buy her a fireman outfit next Halloween…) But this morning. As it is on every morning, I was less than amused.

“MOOOOOOMEEEEEEE!!!!!” she shrieked a the top of my lungs at precisely 6:29 am.

(Have I mentioned that I hear this THROUGH my earplugs?”)

“MOOOOMMMMMEEEEEEEE!!!!!”  She continued predictably as I counted to ten and tried to relax, “MIA’S LEG IS STUCK!!!! MIA’S LEG IS STUCK!”

I tore my right earplug out of my ear and sat up in bed.

Silence.

We were both waiting to see what the ramifications of this new tactic would be.

I decided to myself that if Mia’s leg really WAS stuck SOMEWHERE in the dangerous, meticulously calculated, childproofed enclosure of a modern day crib, I would be able to decipher this scenario by noting the frequency and intensity of her cries.

Mia screamed again, “MOOOMMMMMYYYYY!!!! Mia’s LEG is STUCK!!!!!”

The left earplug came out.  I was now fully awake, sitting bolt upright in bed, sensing the situation.

Any move in the wrong direction could be potentially perilous to my situation.  Go in early and I was committing myself to a life of 6:30 wake ups.  Ignore her while her leg is stuck in the crib and I would be forever clouded with guilt (and possibly an amputated leg) and would therefore be forever committing myself to a life of 6:30am wake ups.  As I often find with 2 year olds, I was faced with a lose-lose situation.

Both earplugs were out, the sheets were off and I was putting one foot on the cold morning floor when she waved the white flag of taking things ONE STEP TOO FAR.

“MOOOOOOMMMYYYYY!!! HURRY!!! You don’t want to be late!” She cried in a last ditched attempt to get me into her room.

My child knows me so well.  But I know her better.  If her leg WAS, indeed, caught, she would NEVER have appealed to my rational-always-rushed-you-don’t-want-to-be-late-side.  NEVER.  She had had me at her foot was caught, but she botched it all up with the guilt trip.

I flipped the covers back over me and lay back down in bed to the sweet sounds of her resignation: she was singing Old MacDonald to her babies.

By the time I went in to get her at 6:50 am (I gave her a 10 minute reward for creativity) she was sitting in the corner of her bed (without a stuck limb to be seen) playing with her babies.

“Mommy!” she said excitedly, “Good morning!  Mia wants to go see some LEMURS today!”

So THAT was what was so pressing.  You never can tell with Mia; whether she has a critical limb threatening crib injury or the sudden urge to visit Lemurs one thing is for sure:  she certainly makes mornings at the Henry household exciting.