My morning routine when the kids are at my house is pretty straightforward. Alarm is set for 6:30 but I am usually eyes open around 6:24, if not sooner, and I know most of you can relate to that. Then I’m up, dressed and headed out with the dog by 6:50 or so. Doggy gets his walk with his usual stop at the dry cleaners, because they give him a morning treat. Then it’s back upstairs to make the coffee, give dog his breakfast, and start the wakeup process. First, it’s the two older ones. Head in to their room with a smile on my face and a cheery attitude that would piss off Gandhi! The boys hate it. Sometimes I even sing the “Good Morning Song,” which really just consists of me singing “Good Morning” in a fairly high pitched, happy tone. They don’t like that either. At some point, dog lumbers in and excitedly helps in the wakeup process. He licks and paws for attention and barks, quite loudly, if he doesn’t get it. Then, and the only time I am willing to be a mini short order cook, I ask what they want for breakfast. It’s usually standard in terms of pancakes, waffles, eggs, yogurt, etc.. We ALWAYS have the same stuff available, but inevitably, my middle child will ask me to repeat all of the options at least twice a week. I do so willingly with that really grating and annoying high pitched voice, so there! Then I head to the kitchen while they get dressed to get a head start on their breakfast before waking up the youngest boy, if he hasn’t gotten up on his own. This morning was no exception. Right on routine and the little guy got up on his own and made his way to the kitchen counter with little fanfare. Awesome! It’s gonna be a smoooooooth morning. Other boys have managed to eat and are getting themselves ready to head out when my youngest pops up onto the stool waiting for his breakfast. He’s even cuter in the morning in that half-sleep sort of way, so I was a bit surprised when I looked at him and something seemed askew, uneven, just not right. Then I realized that he was fine, but it was his hair that was askew, uneven, just not right. In fact half of his bangs were much shorter than the other half. I stood there slack-jawed, because clearly he had taken scissors to his bangs and cut them, somewhat straight mind you, but only halfway across his forehead. Darnit! There went my smooooooth morning. When I asked that sweet, tilted, 7-yr-old what happened to his hair, he innocently said he had no idea. I explained that it was clear he had cut his bangs, and he defiantly cast his eyes downward and shouted “It wasn’t me!” If he hadn’t cut a teeny bit of his hair a couple weeks ago so he “could see what it smelled like,” I would have maybe questioned his brothers for a potential pranking. Alas, the precedence had been set. The next 20 minutes were spent arguing about the possibility that someone came up to my son with scissors and cut half his bangs while he was somehow blinded and unaware. All this while encouraging him to finish his breakfast, brush his teeth, and get his shoes on. It became my mission to just get him to admit he had done it. He came close, but backed off every time and accused everyone, including the dog. He even ventured that the hair just fell out because there seemed to be a lot of it in the tub last night when he was bathing. He accused his brothers and said they probably used the green scissors because they are in his room. Running on the late side, now it was time to smooth down the bedhead and apply the gel so my posh kid could get off to school even with half of his bangs gone. Imagine his sheer delight that the snip wasn’t obvious after Mom-stylist gel was applied to the remaining bangs. With a kiss and a see you later, my adorable little uneven fibber was on his way. Is it too much to hope for an actual admission, or a nap? I’m tired!
Grab a Totem to help you through your morning routine! All four animals are right there, on your left!