I've talked on here several times about how my son, beginning around 4 am, refuses to remain in his room.
He used to call for me and I'd come up there and get him (or politely tell him to "go the eff to sleep"--if you haven't heard that children's book read by Samuel L. Jackson you haven't lived. Open a a new tab now and go here).
Nowadays, it isn't so simple. It starts around 4 am, he might, MIGHT yell for me once. If I don't apparate into his room in 3 seconds or less, here he comes down the stairs... THUMP THUMP THUMP (that's what I hear from my room).
Then I tell him to get his happy butt back upstairs (I don't even carry him anymore. I just stand there and watch him walk back up and go back in his room). He does. And anywhere from 2 minutes to 20 minutes later, he comes back.
Rinse and repeat until about 6 am when I declare the battle lost and we just get up anyway.
The last few days, though, he has taken it to a whole new level.
Yesterday morning, I woke up at 4 am on my own.
So I thought...
Until I saw something sitting at the foot of the bed. That something, was my son.
Sitting on the inside of the bed (not the edge like he had just gotten there)...
Indian-style.
Staring at me...
Me sleeping... (Yes I look this amazing while sleeping)
Sam watching me sleep...
How creepy is this?!
Really it was more like how Sam in Benny and Joon keeps popping up in weird places and just stares... like this... (0:27)
http://youtu.be/AL-5_ceNc-s?t=27s
The unfortunate thing about this was my immediate reaction to things I'm not expecting to be in the bed with me is to donkey kick them so they will get away from me. He's lucky I realized it was him and he didn't fly across the room.
Also yesterday morning, after sending him to bed for WATCHING HIS MOTHER WHILE SHE SLEEPS, I was in the bathroom getting ready for work. I think all is well with the world until I open the bathroom door.
There is my son. Sitting in the floor of my bedroom in the pitch black dark... rolling a dump truck.
Rolling a dump truck in the dark.
Didn't make a sound. Never woke Justin up to tell him he came downstairs. Never knocked on the door to announce his presence to me. Just sat there and rolled his dump truck... back and forth... back and forth... back and forth...
And then, there was a few days ago, when we went through the saga of "back to bed... back downstairs... back to bed again" and I had gotten ready for work.
And I made the mistake of opening the bathroom door...
There he was... Like this... just standing there...
There is no telling how long he was standing there. He never spoke. He never knocked at the door.
It was like he just stood there, "I'm waiting for you mommy. Always waiting..."
Creepy.
This morning though, I have to say, no creepiness to speak of.
He started down the stairs at 5:30 am and I met him at the base of the stairs since I heard him coming.
And I told him to go back upstairs because it was too early.
He began to cry and said, "But I want you mommy!"
I said, "Sam are you scared?"
He nodded his head as he cried.
I said, "And what are we supposed to do when we are scared?"
He said, "Pray to Jeeee heeee heee zus!"
I said, "That's right. We pray to Jesus when we are scared. Did you pray to Jesus when you got scared?"
He said, "You come wif me and pway to Jesus?"
How do you say no to that?
And at least he knows to pray to Jesus. I don't have to worry about bringing over a priest with holy water anytime soon...
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