"Can somebody help me?" Phoebe wailed from upstairs. "I'm stuck! Help! Help! Somebody! Please!"
I stopped what I was doing (loading another load of unending laundry into the washing machine) and ran up to help her. And where did I find her?
Standing at the top of the stairs and absolutely distraught that she'd managed to put her sweater on backwards. Putting a sweater on is one tricky bit of business, but taking a sweater off? That is a herculean task. T-shirts are manageable. Sweaters are impossible—the sleeves go on forever! How does one even get their arms out of them?!
I helped her get her sweater on the right way. And then she needed me to hold her for a minute.
Her mood is not helped by the 4:00 am start to her day she's been favouring lately. I've never really had a child who wanted to wake up at 4:00 in the morning before. Have I had children who wanted to stay up until 4:00? Yes. But get up at 4:00? No.
I remember reading somewhere some account of some mother lamenting about her child getting up at 4:00. And I thought to myself, "Meh. I'd simply tell that child it was still the middle of the night and to go back to bed."
Guess what? That doesn't actually work.
Andrew and I woke up at 7:30 this morning to the sound of Phoebe wailing because she'd slipped in the shower. What was she doing in the shower?
Excellent question—one I also found myself asking.
She and Alexander had gotten up at 4:00. They played in the basement. They practiced the piano. They did some math lessons. They did writing time. Eventually Alexander decided to turn on a show and run on the treadmill. After that came shower time...complete with a slip and fall.
It was quite the morning before I'd even rolled out of bed.
She was completely worn out by our afternoon walk, so she slept in her stroller for a while and has been an absolute menace since waking up.
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