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- Laura on Life -

Only Morning People Like

April 22, 2009
Traer Star-Clipper

A conversation with my twelve-year old at 6:30 in the morning:

"Mom, what's your favorite prehistoric animal?" "Oh, no." "What?" "Nothing. My favorite prehistoric animal, huh?" I asked, squinting in the light and racking my brain for an answer. Wake up, Laura!

"Yeah, and it can't be a human," he said. "Well, that does narrow it down doesn't it?" I mumbled. "Yes, but I'm talking about B.H., Before Humans." "Hmm. I don't know. How about something fuzzy like my vision right now? Was there anything fuzzy in Pre-hysteria?"

"The only fuzzy things around back then were rodents," he said.

"Oh, Geez. It'll be a cold day in He, uh, Helsinki, when a rodent becomes my favorite animal. What are my other choices?"

"Well, do you like carnivores or herbivores?"

"Hmm," I said, struggling to focus, "I've never been to an herbival before, so I guess I like carnivals the best." "Not carnivals; carnivores! Meat-eaters, Mom!"

"And here I thought we were talking about cotton candy eaters."


"Okay, okay. But you should know better than to ask me an intellectual question before it's morning."

"It is morning!"

"Try telling my brain that. No, don't bother. It's still sleeping."

I want to know what I did in a past life to deserve a family full of morning people when I'm clearly not even a person before noon? Was I one of those people that think babies are ugly? Did I let old ladies cross the street by themselves and bet on their chances of making it? Was I a mobile bird-flipper? You know, one of those people who drive with their middle finger. What did I do?

People who have children should automatically be given the ability to wake up cheerful, cognizant and witty no matter how early the darn alarm goes off. That way I could not only name my favorite prehistoric animal, but I could also have an eloquent discussion on the correlation between a super nova and a black hole and solve quadratic equations without the use of a calculator.

But no, all my children sound like little Einsteins to my sleep-deprived brain and to them, I probably sound like a stoned retard.

I had to cut my daughter's hair because every morning when I tried to fix her limp tresses into some semblance of tweeny perfection, it looked like her head had been wallowing around in the dryer with a wool blanket. Braids looked like boondoggle done by a first-grader and barrettes fell out before she arrived at school. I had even bought an assortment of sparkly, colorful head bands that I thought I couldn't screw up. But she always came home from school wearing them like a gay Rambo; on her forehead. So, we cut her hair in a short bob so that she can take care of it herself.

Oh, the sacrifices my kids have to make just because their Mom is not a morning person.

The only way I can make up for being so deficient at a time when they are functioning at full capacity is to make sure there are plenty of cookies in the house. Most kids would forgive anything for a hug and a cookie.

Laura Snyder is a nationally syndicated columnist, author & speaker. You can reach Laura at Or visit her website for more info.



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