My son takes after his mother in more ways than one. He's got my eyes and my way with words and, sadly, my attitude on some days. Most pertinent today, though, is the fact that he is not a morning person. Learning to get up early to accommodate a school schedule has been an intense challenge for both of us for the past two weeks.
This morning, he was more tired and more reluctant to get out of bed than usual. I have no one to blame but myself for that because I didn't get him to bed on time (we had dinner with a friend last night and just didn't leave when we should have). So when I went to wake him, he was especially groggy and grouchy.
It took a few minutes of coaxing, but I finally got him to rouse to consciousness and then went back across the hall to my bedroom to continue getting myself ready. I called out to him a few minutes later to make sure he was getting dressed, to which he confessed he wasn't yet. I walked in there to find him curled up on the bed with his arm draped over the cat.
"Baby, you need to get up and get dressed," I told him.
"But I'm cuddling with Henry," he said.
"Well, you need to stop cuddling with Henry and get dressed."
"Why does Henry get to lay in bed while I have to get up?" he asked.
"Henry's a cat. He doesn't do things like go to school," I replied.
And now, here comes the punchline...
"I want to be a cat," he said.
Brilliant thought, son! Wouldn't it be great if we could all pick the most ideal creature in the world and just become that? I might choose a lizard -- sunning myself on a big rock day after day. Or perhaps a lion -- a boy, not a girl. Lounge around in the sun, shaking my impressive mane and roaring while the lionesses do all that tedious chasing and hunting for me.
But then again, a cat's not a bad choice. Sleep, eat, sleep, stretch, bat something around a little, repeat. I'll take it!
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