Lexington sleeps in his own little room, in a crib. I have in my room, a monitor connected so that I can hear him throughout the night and at the very least, he (if Emmett is a sleepy bug) serves as my alarm clock in the morning.
Normally I awake to a soft tinkle of his “Nemo” fishy musical thingy (http://www.target.com/Baby-Einstein-Dreams-Lullaby-Soother/dp/B0018Z35DA) attached to his crib. It’s quite a nice wake-up I daresay. He just wakes up, turns it on, and lays there, watching the fishies swim to the music, while I roll out and change Emmett’s diaper in the next room.
But this morning I woke up to an impersonation of a man’s voice!
“MOM! …. COME OPEN THE DOOR, MOM!”
I was like— “!?!?!?!?!?!??!!!”
I didn’t hear my little 2 year old’s usual, whiny, “mommyyyyyy, mommaaaa”
Or even a cranky, “mommyyyyy ah want get out of bed!”
It was a command!
"MOM! OPEN THE DOOR!"
The words were short, from the diaphragm and bursting with determination!
Even now, I have always had anxiety about having a daughter because of the dramaaaaa and womanhood/teenager-dom torture I am likely to be karma-fully served.
But (and seriously now, I know he’s only 2) watching my little baby boys become MEN???
This morning I realized I don’t like that idea either.
Ahh, as my mother often exasperates with an old, Greek woman’s accent:
“what I’m gonna do!?”