I suppose that it happens to all children at some point. They lose their child-like enthusiasm for the new day and slowly start to realize that getting out of bed actually means another session of responsibility, chores, and interpersonal conflicts. At this point they become more like the rest of us; disgruntled, irritable, and not at all interested in waking up on time for school.
Alas, the Hobbit is the latest member of the RW Clan to learn to despise mornings. To be fair, she was never really a fan of them, but when she was smaller it was possible to simply stand her up and dress her for school before she fully awoke. Now that she’s in middle school, such is no longer possible.
When I was that age, the morning routine was simple. Mom came in and told me to wake up. If I hadn’t gotten moving by the time Dad noticed that I wasn’t out of bed he came in and grabbed the nearest extremity (he wasn’t picky) and walked out of the room with it. It took me a surprisingly short period of time to train myself to get up when Mom called me. It took my youngest sister a bit longer, but she eventually got there as well. To this day whenever I sleep through my alarm I jolt awake and leap out of bed shouting, “I’m up, Dad! I swear!” (That reminds me, I have to patch my ceiling this weekend.)
Mrs. RW apparently grew up in a kinder, gentler household and long ago asked me to leave waking the children up to her. This means that for more than an hour Mrs. RW invites the Hobbit to get out of bed and begin getting ready for school. Twice this week the Hobbit failed to get out of bed by the time everyone was leaving for school and it was only through the unfailing grace of Granddad that she made it to school at all.
So I have decided to help my young Hobbit learn better morning habits. This weekend I will be attaching an air raid siren to an alarm clock. I will make sure to purchase an alarm without a snooze or an off button. Should the Hobbit survive this and still doesn’t get out of bed, I will smear a dab of peanut butter on her face (organic and all natural, of course… only the good stuff!) and call for my Faithful Hound, Winston. If having a giant dog dancing on your bed while trying to reach your face doesn’t wake you, then I’ll have no choice then but to use the Dad Maneuver.
I don’t want to jump right into the Dad Maneuver because it will inevitably result in screaming, crying, and possible head trauma, and Mrs. RW finds mornings stressful enough.
So everyone wish the Hobbit luck this weekend if you happen to see her, and if she appears even more surly than usual try to be kind to her because I know from experience that the Dad Maneuver can be rough!