Hormones...and not mine, believe it or not!

Moody, moody, moody. KitKat's 4th grade teacher told her that, as her body changes, it could make her moody, and it was normal. She often likes to point that out to me when she's swinging mood-wise, and that it's a documented fact that a body going through changes like hers instigates this kind of reaction. Okay. I agree with that. Sometimes.

Mornings around here are usually pretty mundane. The kids are very much able to select their own clothes, eat what they want for breakfast (or look at the school menu and see if they have a preference), and get all cleaned up. I like to be up with them but, if it's been a long night, I have the option of directing traffic from my bed. Tiger's Eye, my eldest, does an amazing job at setting his alarm clock. He taps the other two on the shoulders and everyone goes in motion.

Just one problem. KitKat now insists that she be woken at 7:30 a.m., and not a minute before. Obviously, being the responsible child who she is, she knows well her necessary prep time (this kind of sounds like a cooking show). She's never late, but you violate this code (it's only been in place for about a week) and the claws come out! I noted last week that she ran late, and I went upstairs...

This needs prefaced a bit. Of course, that morning included a pep rally at Tiger's Eye school at 6:30 a.m. (it was televised), so I went up the stairs to wake him for that. I woke ManCub at the same time, who came downstairs, because I feared he would wake while I was gone and freak out because I wasn't there. So far, so good. We got halfway to the school and realized Tiger's Eye left his school I.D. at home, and turned around. He ran inside to get it, but couldn't get the lock to turn, so I got out and turned the lock and he went inside a few steps, grabbed his I.D. and came back out. We hopped back into the van and went back to the school.

When I returned, ManCub came downstairs, shaking like a leaf! He hugged me tremulously and told me someone had been in the house! They made all kinds of noise at the door, like they were trying to break the lock, and actually came into the kitchen, so he ran upstairs! After thinking about it, I realized that Tiger's Eye and I had made quite a bit of noise at the door earlier and explained that to him, and pointed out that I left Alex, the sacred dog and canine guardian of my children, with him and Alex would never let anything happen to him. It really spooked him, so I told him to go sit down and take some deep breaths while I woke KitKat.

That's when KitKat set the 7:30 a.m. rule.

She snarled at me! With wide eyes, I reminded her that it was time to get up. She informed me that "all morning long, people have been banging and stomping. I can't get a good night's sleep around here! You wake me up at 7:30, and I don't mean a minute before!"

I usually try humor to diffuse situations like this, but I reminded her that her tone was quite disrespectful, but I did understand and there were a lot of noises, but that's just the way it was that morning. She reclined and I think I heard a snore before her head hit the pillow.

Now, we toss a coin to see who has the privilege of provoking that bear from her lair. Tiger's Eye takes the easy way out, calling to her from the bottom of the stairs, nowhere near loud enough to get her attention, but, in the same turn, evading her wrath.

This morning, 7:15 came. Tiger's Eye called (wimpy, too, I might add). He called again. At 7:25, I asked if she came down on her own accord (hoping...hoping...) Shoot no, she needed someone to physically go upstairs.

"If I don't make it, I love you," I told Tiger's Eye as I took the task.

Cautiously, I glanced at the clock. Her clock runs a bit fast, and it read 7:46. Phew. I called to her from the door.

"KitKat? It's time to get up."

She sat bolt upright and I swear I saw something spark in her eyes, but she gave me the benefit of the doubt. Her head whipped around and the looked at the clock.

"Oh. I must be cloudy in the head this morning."

With a sigh of profound relief, I went downstairs.

"You made it," Tiger's Eye said.

"Yeah," I said.

"I wasn't going to help you if you needed some."

Thank you, my son, the child who has been with me the longest.

KitKat, being the last to leave, just left, and I write this. She's wearing a beautiful sunny yellow shirt with her hair put up in clip from underneath, letting all that golden hair spill over the clasp. This is a drastic change from the same girl I woke up last week. Once up, she's as cheerful and pleasant as a child can be, but, man-oh-man, just don't wake her before 7:30 a.m.