Nalou, the oldest rug rat, was the first one to call down to me this morning; it was 5:15 AM. Even if I had already been working for an hour, I still wasn’t willing to shatter my alone time.
“Go back to sleep,” I answered him in a loud whisper. “It’s not 6 o’clock yet.”
“But I’m awake NOW,” he insisted.
“So lie down and rest. Or think about ...whatever...and don’t wake the others!” I warned. “You know you don’t come downstairs before 6 AM.”
Even as I said it, I suspected that he would wake the others. Both older boys have discovered that once two year old Tao is up, attention is pretty much guaranteed. Tao, after all, is still too young to understand the 6 o’clock rule.
Sure enough, not even 15 minutes later, all three voices were audible. Hmmm...Nalou was NOT going to have a good morning.
Tao is a terrible tease, and very rambunctious. He is also very aware that Nalou is not allowed to hurt him, and he will play on it without mercy. Leave the two of them in a room alone together for more than 10 minutes, and you can bet your life that Nalou will be loudly complaining about his little brother’s antics, imploring adult intervention. This morning it didn’t even take that long.
“Mémère! Tao is awake now.” Nalou was standing at the top of the stairs.
“I know. You woke him. You all are staying upstairs until 6 o’clock anyway.”
“But he won’t stop jumping on me!” came the predicted whine.
“Too bad. You woke him, you put up with him. None of you are coming down. It’s too early. You have half an hour to wait.” My voice was firm; it brooked little argument. His “But...” and “He won’t...” and “I don’t like...” entreaties faded into the background when I walked into my office and closed the door. I heard the thumps and bumps on the floor above, but was determined that, short of an injury, they would NOT be coming down before the allotted time.
When the half hour was up, I put on the kitchen light and called “All’s clear!” Down they flew, Tao jumping into my arms for his morning cuddle before his lift into the high chair and breakfast. Nalou’s expression was sheepish; he knew he had disobeyed and that a scolding was in order. Instead I reminded him to put his little dog, Wigi (correct spelling!) outside. He reacted as he does every morning when required to do the task.
“It’s too cold, and it’s wet. I’m hungry now.”
“Dog first. Food after.” said his mean old Mémère. His Mommy usually relents and does it for him.
“But his leash is all wrapped up at the bottom of the gallery!”
“That’s right. You didn’t unwrap it last night when you brought him in, so you have that joyful task to do this morning. Before breakfast.”
“But I’m not dressed,” he continued. “And I’m hungry. Wigi can wait.”
“Now!” I stated.
“But I don’t feel like doing it now!”
I turned from the toaster and waffles to stare at him. “Now!” I repeated. ‘Wigi is your responsibility. He needs to go pee. It’s cruel to make him wait. Now!” I handed him the flashlight. It was still dark out there. Dragging his feet, he slumped away to reluctantly do as he was told.
When he showed up Wigi-less ten minutes later, his brothers were already eating.
“I don’t have any waffles, Mémère?” He inquired, studying the empty place where his plate should be.
“Did you ask for some?”
“Yes!” he replied. “I asked before I put Wigi out.”
“Hmmm. I guess I didn’t listen to you then.” I kept busily wiping the counter. When he saw I still hadn’t made a move to prepare his waffles, he stalled a moment, then broached the subject again, his tone uncertain.
“Are you going to make them now?”
“Make what?” I asked airily.
Again he hesitated before saying “My waffles.” He’s a smart lad. I knew it wouldn’t take him long to get the picture.
“I don’t know. I’m wondering if I should listen to you now. Or not.” I turned to look directly at him. He gazed back at me, then visibly came the ‘Aha!’ moment. He ducked his head before responding.
“Yes – you can listen to me. I’m hungry. Please.” His eyes lifted to look into mine. “And I’ll listen to you next time too.”
“We’ve got a deal.” I confirmed, holding out for a high-five.
“A deal!” repeated this handsome grandson of mine, and he slapped his hand into mine.
My wink contained a granny-load of love. He saw it for what it was, and we both SMILED.
Luv from the Bush in Quebec.
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