1 Mother 2 Another

As a child and teenager, I never got used
to mornings. I truly believed that one of my parents’ best
attributes was their ability to not take my morning crabbiness
personally, and I’d even brag about how my mom and dad
understood I simply wasn’t a morning person and let me get
away with borderline rudeness on an almost daily basis. As I got
older, I often joked that the reason I went into a career in the
theatre was because it guaranteed me the right to sleep in, and
family and friends knew not to even attempt to call me before 10
a.m. Preferably 11.


As for my husband, while we were dating I’d often call his
house during school break around 11 a.m., only to be told he was
still asleep. So it’s safe to say he’s never been a
morning person, either. And when Maddie came along, she agreeably
exhibited the family tendency to love sleep, and would snooze a
good 12-13 hours a night, sleeping until 9 or 10 a.m. until she was
nearly three years old.


Which makes Cora’s attitude towards the early hours all the
more incomprehensible.

Truly, I’ve never seen such a
morning person. She wakes up between 6 and 7 a.m. – after
going to bed somewhere between 9 and 9:30 p.m. And once she wakes,
she’s up; I’ll bring her into my bed in hopes of
catching another twenty minutes or so, but while she may suffer
patiently, she certainly won’t go back to sleep, and more
than likely, she’ll begin thumping her feet happily or
humming a little tune. When Cora can bear it no longer,
she’ll creep up into my face and whisper breathily,
“Mama, mama! Beaktast, Mommy!” and break into a toothy
grin.


Breakfast is Cora’s favorite meal of the day, which may
account for her inordinate love of the morning, and we’ve got
eight (8!) organic, low-sugar cereals in our cupboard to prove it.
She’ll run into the kitchen and stand in front of the cereal
shelf, weightily pondering her daily decision. Strawberry Fields,
or Shredded Oats? Maybe brown rice cereal with bananas, or Cheerios
with strawberries? The possibilities are nearly endless, and the
choice can’t be rushed. She’ll pull one box forward at
a time to peer at the picture: “Um. . . . nope!”
She’ll thrust the box back in its spot and continue down the
line. “Um, . . . nope! Um. . . . nope!” until –
“Rice cereal! Hey there, rice cereal! Cora eat dis!”
And she’ll pull the box off the shelf and attempt to open it
and grab a handful while walking to her chair.


Cora’s always the first to breakfast, usually up
significantly before Maddie, but I don’t make her wait to eat
because she’s always the last at breakfast as well. My child
will put away two to four bowls of cereal with milk, and if Maddie
has something else – oatmeal, or scrambled eggs – Cora
will have a helping or two of that, as well. On Saturdays when we
make waffles, Cora needs at least one bowl of cereal to tide her
over while the waffles are being made. My kid loves her breakfast.


But it’s not just the food: Cora’s in a great mood all
morning. Sitting in her high chair, waving her milky spoon around,
she’ll sing away, bouncing to a tune only she recognizes as
she eats. Often she’ll ask for some music –
“Sesame Steet, Mommy!” – and will scream with
delight when the opening strains come on. “Cookie
Monstah!” she’ll shout, shoveling cereal in her mouth
as the blue guy begins singing about cookies, or
“Elmo!” she’ll slurp around an upturned bowl of
milky remnants as the Red One begins his happy tapping. Even if
there’s no music, though, she’ll belt through ten
choruses of “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” while
shoveling oatmeal, pausing only to yell, “More cinnamon,
Mommy!” or “Milk, pease!”


Fortunately for us, Cora’s daily morning ebullience extends
towards any and all family members; she greets every one as if she
hasn’t seen them for years. “Gamma!” she’ll
whisper as she hears my mom’s door open, peering up at the
ceiling as if afraid to dream that big. Then as she sees my mom
come down the stairs, she’ll yell fondly, “Hey, Gamma!
How are ya!” Her biggest greeting of all, though, is saved
for her beloved big sister, and when she hears Maddie stir she
squeals, “Maddie!” Seeing Maddie come down, Cora
becomes the beauty pageant announcer introducing the audience
favorite: “Here she is! It’s Maddie! Hey, Maddie! Cora
have cereal!” Poor Maddie, I’m afraid, has inherited
the dominant Morning Intolerance gene and will stagger blearily
around, trying her best to avoid Cora’s relentless cheeriness
without being totally offensive. Cora, bewildered, will simply
crank it up a Kindness notch, which has the effect of driving
Maddie (everyone) further into their cups, and Cora’s left
singing that last verse of “Bah, Bah, Black Sheep” all
by her lonesome.


Listen, Cora – take a tip from my parents, and don’t
take it personally.


And would it kill you to be a little crabbier? Sheesh.