The Possum Game

Every morning, I have to wake Troy up to get ready for daycare. I try to let him sleep as long as possible while I prepare his snacks and breakfast, but this still means I have to get him up by 6:30 a.m. I will just say that our son is not a morning person, especially if the sun is not up yet.

I will usually rub his back and run my fingers through his hair, so I don’t startle him. He will usually moan and then burrow down under his blanket to entrench himself. I’ll pull the blanket back to expose him and then I’ll start kissing on him...first his head, then his back and sides, which tickles. He tries not to react, but I’ll see a hint of a smile on his lips, and I’ll kiss him more aggressively, tickling him with my nose and lips, until he starts flipping back and forth to get away from me.

But even then, his eyes still aren’t open. He’s still pretending to be asleep. I call it his possum. But he’s given himself away, and I know I’ve got him. So, I’ll start talking to him. “Baaaaabyyy...” And eventually, he can’t help himself, and he’ll start talking back. I’ll let him sit in his crib to wake up, stretch, yawn, and accept the inevitable; and I’ll go pick out his outfit for the day. By the time I’m done, he’s ready for breakfast. It’s a struggle, but it’s fun. And it reminds me of doing the same thing to my father on vacations.