Tater Tot woke up at the crack of dawn today. And by crack of dawn, I mean before dawn actually happened. Dr. J and I decided yesterday that we would start getting up early to do some yoga together before we went our separate ways for the day. It's healthy, it's bonding, it's grown-up time! Did I mention that we aren't morning people? A good morning for me starts at about one in the afternoon.So, we woke up when the alarm went off, and at first I couldn't figure out why I was awake. Then the alarm went off again, and I remembered, "Oh yeah, I'm doing this on purpose." Hmm. At least I was coherent enough to have that thought. I started to roll over, but there was a short person in bed with me blocking my escape. It never ceases to amaze me how the kids can slither into our bed and take over a full one-half of it without waking either of us up. Spy academies should look into this technique. I did manage to roll out the other side without waking our sprawled, snoring seven-year old.
Our house is very small, so the Doctor and I tiptoed around trying to be totally silent so as not to wake anyone up. I thought we had been successful, turning on the program, unrolling our yoga mats, turning on one dim lamp. And then, without any warning whatsoever, a voice pipes up right behind me. "Hey! Oh, are we doing yoga? Can I do yoga? I'm good at yoga!" And as the perky little voice prattled on, she hopped over and grabbed a mat, unrolled it next to ours and looked up with a grin. How do they DO that?!
I tiptoe, mouth words silently, and move with exaggerated care so as not to make a sound, and I wake up the masses. The kids take no precautions at all and manage to sneak right up next to me. And I'm the one rumored to have eyes in the back of my head!
We made it all the way through the routine with every move enthusiastically narrated by our waist high companion. When we were done, she rolled up her mat and stowed it away before we had even made it up off the floor. And then she disappeared, only to reappear moments later to declare with all the dramatic flair of a stage actor, "You are SO glad I was born! I am five years old, and I can fix pipes!" And then she disappeared again.
I still don't know exactly what she meant by that. I have a feeling that there are some pipes somewhere in the house sporting Winnie the Pooh band-aids now. It's the end of the day now, and she is walking around with a mouse trap down the front of her leotard, the leotard she is wearing just in case someone happens to stop by with a gymnastics class in progress. When I ask her about the mousetrap, she tells me it's to help her skin breathe. So that it doesn't die. And, she likes the way it looks. And, its name is Daniel.
Maybe she's on to something. If you see me with a mousetrap on my person, just know it's the start of a new trend. Or it's helping keep my skin alive. Or it helps me wake up in the wee hours of the morning to be really good at yoga. And, its name is Charlotte.
