For six years, Hubs and I have been striving with everything we have to get Thing 2 to sleep past 5:30 AM. We have tried later bedtimes and big bribes, because… are you even a real parent, if you haven’t bribed a child to get what you want? (“You want a $700 toy? Sleep until 8 AM on a Saturday morning, and it’s yours.”) For six entire years, Thing 2 has gotten out of bed, for the day, between 4:45 and 5:30 AM. I have always considered myself a morning person, but even I am forced to admit that 4:45 is better known as THE MIDDLE OF THE STINKING NIGHT.
And then… for whatever reason… Thing 2 has started sleeping in a bit this summer. We have done nothing different, but suddenly, we started waking up at 6:30 AM, and we felt REFRESHED. And then we started having mornings where our baby slept until 7:00, and WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE, WHO HAD COFFEE ALONE ON THE DECK, IN PEACE AND QUIET? And… lo! We have even had a morning where Thing 2 slept clear ’til 8 AM. It was only once, but we feel like it’s a goal we may one day see on a regular basis. Hubs and I became parents of leisure this summer.
And then the boy started opening the golf course this month.
Bless it all.
There’s nothing like having your six-year-old finally… FINALLY, FOR THE LOVE!!!… sleep in until 7 AM, while your seventeen-year-old sets his alarm for 5:20 in the morning. If you enjoy cussing in your head, then my life might be the one you’d enjoy living.
Since we were awake at an unholy hour again yesterday morning, thanks to the boy and his alarm clock… Hubs and I had coffee, while we waited… and waited… and also waited some more… for Thing 2 to wake up at 7:18. By then, Hubs and I felt like we needed lunch. So… we got ready… and we drove to Big Town, USA for something fun to do, because listen: Their ice rink is open year round, while Small Town shuts our ice rink down for the entire summer. There will be no escaping to the frigid temps of an indoor skating facility for us, to cool off from the temperatures, which have been hovering around the four hundred and six degrees mark. Thing 2 has been begging to skate… begging to know WHEN our ice rink will throw its doors open wide again… so yesterday, with nothing better to do… we shoved his hockey bag into our car and we set off on a little day trip.
The little man got to skate for two entire hours.
He hasn’t been on ice skates since our ice rink closed for the season on May 1st, so our Olympic speed skating hopeful was a bit rusty and wobbly when we first set out. So much so, in fact, that a nine-year-old girl skated by and said, “He can borrow one of those supports from the front desk, that he can push and hang onto while he tries to skate, so that he doesn’t fall down.”
What a sweet little thing, to be looking out for our little punk. I assured her that, although he was clutching the wall like a newbie, he could, in fact, SKATE.
After his first lap, I pulled Thing 2 aside and pointed the nine-year-old girl out to him. I whispered, “She said you could go get one of those LEARN TO SKATE supports, so you can push it without falling down.” He stared at me in horror. He said, “She didn’t say that!” I said, “She did. I think it’s because you’re clutching the wall.”
And that, my friends, was all it took.
Thing 2 released the wall… and he shot off on the ice, exactly like Apolo Ohno, on fire. He skated three laps, at a break-your-neck-plum-in-half speed, while he waved at that cute little girl, every time he passed her. She skated back over to me and said, “Wow! I guess he CAN skate!” She was an absolutely darling little thing!
And there you have it. Eventually, a twelve-year-old boy showed up, who was very possibly the best skater I’ve ever seen. He was THAT amazing. Thing 2 gravitated toward him, and the two of them ended up racing and racing… and racing some more… until they were both dripping sweat. Thing 2 couldn’t beat this boy in a lap of WHO IS THE FASTEST, but that’s because this kid’s legs are twelve, while Thing 2’s legs are six, and the height difference creates a massive advantage. Those longer twelve-year-old legs could fly across the ice. No matter. Thing 2 gave each race every thing he had, while Hubs and I rubbed our hands together in glee and said, “HE WILL SLEEP TONIGHT!” We sat in those bleachers and CLAPPED LIKE LUNATICS for those informal speed races, because all we could envision was a small boy, sound asleep in his bed, for hours on end.
Afterward, I thanked this boy for entertaining Thing 2 on the ice all afternoon. I told him that he was an amazing skater, to which he said, “Yes… I’m basically the best skater on our hockey team.”
I also thanked him for his humbleness.
As the Zamboni pulled out of the garage door, indicating that Open Skate was over, we pulled Thing 2 off the ice.
He had sweaty helmet hair.
Dear Boy Who Is The Best Skater On Your Hockey Team… Thank you for wearing our second son out. That was the ultimate goal of driving half the day to skate for a couple of hours, and we appreciate you. We will be looking for you in the NHL one day soon! Sincerely, Hubs and Mama
Thing 2 woke up this morning, and he had to HOBBLE to the kitchen for breakfast. He told us, “Man! My legs feel like I can’t walk too good!” Hubs and I are hoping that this confession means he’ll sleep well again tonight!
In other news, we cleaned our kitchen junk drawer today.
Do y’all have one of those? Can you open it?! I mean… can you pull the drawer out, all the way, without something catching and preventing the drawer from being opened, so that you have a miniature temper tantrum, right there beside your stove, because WHY IS IT SO HARD TO GET A PAIR OF SCISSORS???!!!
Well… we HAD one of those drawers. Hubs and I were both tired of throwing two-year-old tantrums, each time we couldn’t open it to get the stapler or a pen or the scissors, so we basically said, “We are adults, and we know how to fix this!”
Hubs took the metal track off the drawer and straightened it out, because it was a bit bent from a forty-seven pound boy, hanging on the drawer, while he decides whether he wants a green marker or the glue stick from inside of it.
In the end, we had THIS:
In other words, it was a good weekend.