When my Dad was a little boy, my Grandma Lennie used to wake him and my Aunt Sheri up in the morning by singing to them:
“The birdies are sing-ing… Tweetie, tweet, tweet-tweet… Tweetie, tweet-tweet…Tweetie, tweet-tweet…!" Over and over again until they grumblingly (I imagine) agreed to get out of bed. That was long before the advent of iPhones that you could simply dock in your iHome with a different pre-set alarm for each day of the week and a different pre-programmed iTune to wake you up… and then, of course, they had to walk
up hill…
both ways…to their one-room schoolhouse… in ill-fitting in snowshoes…
So it’s not hard to envisage that some years later my big brother and I, too, were awakened each morning by the sound of our father singing (in and oddly high-pitched tone):
“The birdies are sing-ing… Tweetie, tweet, tweet-tweet… Tweetie, tweet-tweet…Tweetie, tweet-tweet…!" Over and over again until we sullenly (
I know) agreed to get out of our bunk beds. I guess it’s sort of a family thing.
I realized this because six years ago, when I had my first child, I found myself opening his bedroom door each morning and singing (perfectly in pitch, of course):
“The birdies are sing-ing… Tweetie, tweet, tweet-tweet… Tweetie, twee-tweet…Tweetie, tweet-tweet…!" Over and over again until he opened his sweet little eyes and smiled at me. (He’s only six now so he hasn’t figured out yet that it’s really not fun to get up early in the morning… there are still too many Pokémon to be played with at this juncture in his little life.)
When Beck’s brother was born two years after him – things didn’t change much other than the fact that I was way more tired in the morning and maybe not quite as “
chirper” as I used to be. I just started singing for two each morning:
“The birdies are sing-ing… Tweetie, tweet, tweet-tweet… Tweetie, tweet-tweet…Tweetie, tweet-tweet…!" And it generally got the desired results.
Until this morning…Yo see, now-a-days we all generally go to bed in our
own bunk beds but we ultimately wake up together in a big pile of arms and legs in one king sized bed in the morning. (Okay, sometimes, Mommy or Daddy wakes up on the couch in the nook if some boy or other decides to play Karate Kid in his sleep… but generally we’re a team. Mommy and Daddy aren’t complaining– we figure we’ll take what we can get now… they won’t be climbing into our bed to snuggle when they’re in high school.
We hope...)
This morning, Beck came up later than usual. The iPhone had already finished its third or fourth round (but who’s counting) on the snooze “button” and Caden and I were lazing in bed avoiding the inevitable. In fact Caden was still asleep (an alarm does nothing for a four year old that went to bed too late.)
So while Beck was cuddling with him… I asked him to start singing in his brother’s ear to wake him (passing on the family tradition, you know):
“The birdies are sing-ing… Tweetie, tweet, tweet-tweet… Tweetie, tweet-tweet…Tweetie, tweet-tweet…!" He sang his little heart out. And he got nothing but a couple of groans and a thumb popped back into Cade’s mouth in response. (Bonus! No finger up the nose… not this time anyway.) So, since Beck didn’t get the response he was trying to illicit… he changed tactics… with extremely effective results:
“The birdies are toot-ing… Tootie, toot, toot-toot… Tootie, toot-toot…Tootie, toot-toot…!"
Yep, Dad. I’ve got two boys… and they’re ALL BOY.
My apologies in advance to my future grandchildren…
Thanks for the memory. I miss you.
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