Daddy’s Song! or Is it morning al -f-ing-ready?

I won’t let anyone watch TV during dinner.  I’m not sure where I learned it because my family always leaves the TV on, even when they are eating in the dining room and have no visual access to the TV.  But because I find it a little weird to eat in silence (My husband often comes home after dinner, and the boys aren’t great dining conversationalist yet; other than “I don’t like it!  Can I go now? Can I have cookies?” or “Peeeease!  Juice!”), I have started playing my iPod during dinner.  It only took a month before I decided I couldn’t endure another meal with kiddie music, so now we play a shuffle now.

 

Last night as we ate “One Week” by the Barenaked Ladies came on the iPod, and Evan straightened up in his seat.

 

Evan: That’s Daddy’s song!  It plays on the radio in Mommy and Daddy’s room!  Then Daddy shuts it off in the dark and goes back to sleep!  Ah-shoo.  Ah-shoo.  Ah-shoo.  Then he starts making daddy noises!  That’s what daddies do!

 

Shall I explain?  We own a CD alarm, and every morning “One Week” plays to wake us up.  It is actually “Mommy’s song” because Mommy CANNOT stand that stupid, irritating beeping sound that just makes me want to walk into the office of the jerk who thought that was a great noise to wake up to and beat him to death with a mallet.  My husband does not care as he’s a snoozer, and I find that terribly annoying too.  It is only due to my inability to spring into action for anything, but a child’s cry, in the morning that has kept my husband alive for so many years.  As for “One Week,” it is the only song that we could agree on.  He would rather wake up to AC/DC, and I have always preferred Hole as a morning wake up call. 

 

As for daddy noises, my husband snores . . . LOUDLY.  As in hibernating bear loudly.  As in the neighbors who live two houses down can hear it loudly.  As in a dozen chainsaws running loudly.  As in a six on the Richter scale loudly.  Luckily I am a heavy sleep, except during pregnancy, which might explain why we spend nearly nine months arguing on why we’re still married and crazy enough to have a child.

 

How does Evan know this?  God, with his infinite wisdom and sense of humor, gave two night owls two early birds.  So when Evan wakes at say 5:30, I allow him to A) snuggle with Mommy and Daddy or B) turn on the TV in Mommy and Daddy’s bedroom and watch cartoons.  The alarm goes off at 6:15, then at 6:25, and, and if I hadn’t kicked my husband out of bed yet, 6:35.

 

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