The Process

Five-Fifty, AM

PHONE / ALARM CLOCK: blat! blat! blat! blat!
BON : *smackety!*
…
BON : crap, that’s my spendy phone I just smacked into that pile of laundry.
BON : *rummagerummagerummage* Ah!
BON : snooze button, HUT!

Five minutes later….

PHONE / ALARM CLOCK: blat! blat! blat! blat!
BON : mmm, more snoozing for me….*attempt to make phone shaddup*
PHONE / ALARM CLOCK: *fails to snooze* blat! blat! blat! blat!
BF : mmmrrr? *grumbles and hides head*
BON : (frantically, now) shaddup! shaddupshaddup! *tries to turn volume down or off
PHONE / ALARM CLOCK: *ignores pitful attempts* blat! blat! blat! blat!
BON : *pries battery out* Stop. It.
PHONE / ALARM CLOCK: *looks smug*

Morning ensues normally from there. Child is roused. Coffee is made. Lunch is packed. Child is roused, again. Coffee drunk. Backpack gone through (both of ours) to make sure that everything is where it should be. Child is roused a third time and threatened with no breakfast if she doesn’t Get OUT of bed and PUT on her clothes, right now, with a quickness. Child mumbles incoherently, head bashes some love into my tummy and heads off to ablute herself.
Crowd into car and head off to our respective schools.

English class is thoroughly enjoyable if still a bit nervous. No one wants to answer questions aloud, yet. I can tell already that the homework load is going to be enormous.