Why Didn’t You Wake Me?

On school days, Dylan leaves the house at 7:15 to catch the bus.  He wakes up at 6:30.

I wake up at 6:40, go downstairs, make his breakfast and part of his lunch.  I want to make sure he knows how to make his own lunch by the time he gets to high school, so he puts in two items the night before.  Then I make the sandwich so it’s fresh.

I make his breakfast so that it’s piping hot – but not too hot – at 7:00 when he is expected to barrel down the stairs to eat.  I try to give him a high-protein breakfast because, in the years before his medication, we learned that protein helps his concentration.  Best of all, there is something in eggs (besides protein) that helps him focus.  He only likes eggs if they’re smothered in cheese, so on most days, he gets an egg sandwich with high fiber, whole grain bread, and a piece of fruit.

On normal days, he eats and chats with me for about 15 minutes.  Then he puts away his dishes and his water glass, tucks his lunchbox into his backpack, then takes his pill and his vitamins with a 6-ounce glass of milk, often chocolate.  He consumes them, puts his glass in the dishwasher, throws the hood of a coat on his head because he never has time to put the coat on his body – then he struts out the door with his 90-pound backpack and heads for the bus stop.

He stops at the end of our long driveway, turns around, and waves at me – standing in my PJ’s on the porch.

Yesterday, I got up at 6:40 and found Dylan asleep in his bed, lights still off. I considered waking him, but only briefly.  He knows that if he misses his bus, he misses Morning Show (which he loves) and two periods of school before I’ll drive him in – when I take his brother at 9:00.

So I let him sleep.  But I made his lunch and his breakfast, just in case.

At 7:12, I heard the thumping of what-seemed-to-be a cow in his room. SLAM!  BAM!  WHACK!  A mere three minutes later, Dylan thundered downstairs yelling that his breakfast wasn’t ready (I was microwaving it so he could carry it with him) and shrieked that I should have KNOWN that he woke up at 6:30 and fell back asleep BY ACCIDENT!  WHY DIDN”T I WAKE HIM?

Of course, I yelled back.  I always respond so maturely. “You do NOT get to yell at ME because YOU fell asleep!”

“I’ve only been awake for three minutes, Mom!  Give me a break!” he grumbled in his defense.

(Was he kidding?  Sadly, no.)

I handed him his lunchbox, his breakfast sandwich, a milk box and a pill – no vitamins today.  He started inhaling everything on his way out the door.  He raced up to the end of the driveway, 90-pound backpack slamming him with every flat-footed stomp as he ran.

He got to the end of the driveway, turned around, and waved.  How I love that boy.

Shortly thereafter, I remembered: Today is School Picture Day.

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