This was one of THOSE mornings.
You know, the ones where you have to nag and beg and cajole and threaten physical harm to get your child out of bed.
To be honest, we haven't had too many mornings like that lately. When Megan started middle school, I bought her a nice radio alarm clock with a docking station for her iPod. And as the only way she can manage her homework load along with her schedule is to do it early, she has usually been up for hours by the time I start fumbling in the kitchen for the coffee maker.
But Tuesdays are the only day of the week when she DOESN'T have gymnastics or Hebrew school in the afternoon and evening, so she managed to finish her homework before the start of "American Idol" last night. And so she set her alarm for a relatively late 6:00 a.m...
...and stayed in bed. After about five minutes, when I didn't hear any movement out of her room, I went in to rouse her. "I meant to set it for 6:30," she moaned. "Please turn the light back off."
At 6:30, I went back in to get her up. "Can I have five more minutes?" she pleaded.
At 6:40, I walked back in; saw that she was finally upright. I walked away.
When the clock displayed 7:00, I realized that I hadn't been hearing any noise in the bathroom. Sure enough, Megan had crawled right back into bed. We were running out of time.
I sat on the bed and gave her a nudge. "We have to leave for school in half an hour."
She groaned again.
Until recently, I would deal with this by "bringing out the big gun" -- The Tickle Spider.
You see, when she was little, we had this little game. I would walk my hand up her arm to her head, and tell her it was "The Good Spider." But often, it would turn out that the Good Spider was being impersonated by his evil twin, the Tickle Spider, who would then attack her in the belly and get her laughing.
My daughter and I are both EXTREMELY ticklish, and for me, being tickled is excruciating. But Megan's weird. She LIKES being tickled. And so I found the Tickle Spider to be a very useful tool to get her out of bed in the morning.
But no more. Megan is now 12, and doesn't feel like playing with "spiders" any longer.
I love the way she's maturing into a thoughtful, responsible, caring proto-adult. I am SO PROUD of her I could burst.
But I miss my baby girl.
And I've gotta find a new way to get her out of bed!