I don’t get up before 6am. Ideally not before 6:20, but I can live with 6.
Logan has taken to getting himself up at 5:30am.
That would be fine if he dressed himself, made me breakfast and left me alone until 6am…
This morning my 7-year-old decided to wake me up by doing the Macarena. Six inches away from my face while I tried to sleep.
He wanted to know if I’d ever seen that “really cool” dance before.
Oh yes. Yes I have. And about a million others. Son, I was on the dance team in high school. I can bring it. (…Well, as much as a an overweight mom in flannel PJs can.)
I decided I’m going to make him clean his room today so, unbeknownst to him, I can return the favor and bring it on tomorrow with the Electric Slide at 5:15am in his room.
Then I’m gonna Ride The Train. At 5am on Saturday. CHOO CHOOO Logan! CHOOO CHOOOOOO!
Then I’ve got big plans to Dip into Sunday.
Then, perhaps, we’ll Roll in to the new week on Monday.
Because that should scar him for life.
Don’t wake Mom up before 6am, Dude. You will regret it.
UPDATE: Logan just mentioned that he’s going to learn The Electric Slide in school in the next few days…so I will have to replace tomorrow’s performance with something he Can’t Touch.