This morning I woke up hours before dawn, just so I could have some peace and quiet to get my work done. All I wanted was a little extra time to finish up some major projects so I could have some semblance of a normal, relaxing weekend with my family. You know? Like lots of other people?
So, I'm typing away, cranking out work like a boss, when I hear little feet hitting the hardwood floor above me. CRAP. I actually...for just a moment...wished it was a ghost, monster, burglar, Republican...anything but one of my sons. As I glanced at the clock on the wall, which mockingly read 4:30, I heard little, not so paranormal, steps coming down the stairs. The next thing I know, I have a 5-year-old hanging from my arm whining that he's tired. He's tired? At 4:30 in the morning? Who'd have guessed?
Super bummer. And, by “bummer” I mean "thing that irritates me so severely that I still have an eye twitch eight hours later."
What bothers me the most about these little inconveniences isn't so much that my kids try to make me feel guilty as if I'm slighting them somehow by writing in the middle of the night. The problem is how they have some sort of sickening intuition that I'm doing something selfish, albeit in the best interest of my family. They can sense when I've planned a proactive strategy that will benefit me later, and are especially gifted at thwarting efforts to get ahead somehow.
Do your kids have any uncanny ability to end your plans before they begin?