The family’s been a wreck this week because of sleep deprivation. My son has to get up around 6 AM for school. My wife has to be up to help my son get ready for school and be picked up by carpool. My daughter is a light sleeper so if anyone else is up, she’s up, not to mention she’s up earlier than anyone anyway. And my body clock is in full anarchy this week because of my trip to Japan last week.
Friday night dinner-time rolls around, and we made tracks for the Village Tavern. My daughter was not in a good mood, and as the menus arrived to the table, she began a quiet little tantrum. Sitting in the booth facing the wall, balled up, looking sad, she all but ignored the waiter as he tried to address her to make her smile. No luck. Once the food showed up, her spirits lifted a bit, but she was still pretty quiet. The waiter came around to check on us, and addressed her again. What are the odds, though, of him saying, “You woke up nicely!”
As if on cue, my daughter hopped up onto her knees, leaned around me to speak to him, and spread both arms open wide. She exclaimed, “These people are NOT morning people (as she motioned to me and my wife by nodding her head from side to side toward each of us). I, am morning people. When I wake up in the morning, I say ‘Morning, I’m going to kill you,’ and then I kill the morning. Where is my extra cheese? You gave my brother fresh parmesan and not me. See, he has extra cheese, and I don’t.” As she paused to take a breath while pointing to her grilled cheese sandwich, which really didn’t need any extra grated parmesan cheese, the waiter was just silent, frozen. My wife and I were laughing too hard to help him out.
We’re used to this, of course, but it never ceases to be amusing when our four year old can can dumbfound anyone she speaks to.
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