I married an opossum.
My husband’s ability to play dead during a preschooler onslaught is unparalleled in the annals of human history. Behold.
7:30 PM. Friday night.
I am collapsed on the couch in a pool of my own drool, exhausted from a busy week, and a trying child. Turns out we forgot to give him his Vitamin B6 (to counter the behavior effects of his seizure medicine) for two days in a row. The result was a child that at best could be described as defiant and having a “hard day” at preschool. So when I wonder, “Does this vitamin have any effect?” Then answer is a resounding, “oh HELL YES.”
You should take rest, says my adoring opossum. This translates into: “you look bad. real bad. get some sleep. but only after you take care of the bedtime routine because you know I won’t brush his teeth, read books or put him to bed on time. And that drives you crazy. I blame my lack of opposable thumbs, but we both know that’s not the real reason.”
Books have been read. Preschooler teeth are clean, enough. He is safely ensconced in his own bed. I sink into mine and begin to lose consciousness, only to have the bedroom door creep open. A 3 year old shadow appears.
Go to bed. Now.
Since he had his vitamin as soon as we got home, it is now working. Instead of continuing to plot out the vile names he was going to call his classmates when he returns to school next year, he blows me a sweet kiss and quietly closes my door.
The opossum is watching MSNBC news in the living room.
Ismael comes to bed. Wakes me up.
Adam is trying frantically to get into bed with me.
Go to bed…go to your own bed.
And he does. Kind of. I hear a rustling in the hallway and realize that he has transferred all of his bedding to our doorway and is having a “campout.” Fine by me.
The opossum snorts and snores beside me.
6:30 AM – 7:30 AM
Adam returns. We are in snooze alarm mode. I get an update every 5 minutes. I resist the urge to smack him like I do to my *real* snooze alarm.
Mommy, it’s light!
Mommy, my pull up is still dry! (he rips it off and throws it in my face as he runs, bare butt, to the bathroom)
Mommy! I’m going to build a track!
Mommy! I’m going to have a campout!
Mommy! I’m going to get in bed with you!
Mommy! I have a bump on my butt! It’s huge!
Mommy! I have a story for you. You and … me…. well.. umm… you and I are picking bananas in Africa! Isn’t that a good story??
The opossum: snores. rolls over. never flutters an eyelash.
I relent and get up.
The opossum sleeps on.