Last night I took the kids to my aunt and uncle's house for Christmas Eve festivities. By the time we got back home and got the kids fed, cookies set out, notes to Santa written, and kids tucked in and asleep it was pretty late. I thought to myself, I hope we can get going in the morning. I hope we don't oversleep and wind up arriving late to my parents' house tomorrow.
I'm telling you, a stupider string of words has never slid across my consciousness. Because at 3:15 AM P woke up and assumed it was morning and came bursting into the living room, flipping on lights and shouting that Santa came. And it was my job to tell him that no, it was still nighttime, and that he should definitely go back to sleep.
Sometimes my son is so absentminded that he walks into walls or forgets to put on pants. And sometimes he's passionate about something with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns. Christmas is one of the things he's intense about. I should have known there would be no going back to sleep. However, I was tired and he's eager to please, so I ushered him back into his bed. My husband had put a plush Chopper doll near his stocking, so I let him take the stuffed astromech droid back to his bed to cuddle and, hopefully, sleep with.
For about fifteen minutes he talked to Chopper and asked several times if it was daytime yet. I gave him my husband's phone and explained that if he slid the phone's keyboard out it would turn the phone on and show the time, and once the time was 5:00 AM he could get up. For the next ten minutes we were treated to the sound of t-ck, t-ck every fifteen seconds as he slid the phone open, saw it wasn't 5 AM yet, and slid it shut. Eventually he found the process to be too frustrating, and he softly set the phone on our bed. After he went back to bed I could still hear him tossing, turning, talking to Chopper, and sighing in frustration.
At 4:30 I conceded defeat and let him turn on his lights and play with the contents of his stocking with the stern warning that he wasn't to talk, make noise, or wake his sisters until 6:00. And, to his credit, he didn't. But still, 6 AM came way too early when I had gotten to bed late and only got snatches of sleep for three hours.
And yet, P didn't do anything wrong. He did everything I asked. He tried to sleep and settle down. But his excitement was just too much for him to handle. And really, who can blame him? In the grand scheme of things, it's not so bad to start Christmas a few hours early because of a little boy's enthusiasm.