The Turtle

Each morning (well, at least each Monday through Friday) I am reminded that my once sweet, cuddly little baby boy has definitely grown up.

And I have a backache that keeps reminding me all morning long.

Little man is not a morning person. He gets that from his mama. My husband knows to pretty much avoid me until I am at least out of the shower. Any attempt at conversation before then and he is met with a look of death and an inaudible grumble. He is very much a morning person. Chipper, awake and ready to go. That makes it especially dangerous for him to be around me in the morning.

Although by nature my little man really is a very laid back, easy going, happy little guy, there is a whole different side to him in the morning.

We call it "The Turtle."

I know - you were probably expecting something a little more dark and ominous - like "The Beast" or "Satan's Toddler."

But trust me, you don't want to encounter "The Turtle."

"The Turtle" came to fruition as a result of the defensive move little man likes to deploy each morning when he doesn't want to get out of bed. He curls up into a little ball, legs underneath him, head pulled in, with his arms around him. Like a turtle in it's shell.

However, unlike a real turtle, there is no coaxing little man from this position. The only way to de-turtle little man is to pick him up and forcefully evict him from his bed.

And, I might add, it is a snapping turtle.

The minute you pick The Turtle up you are greeted with a wail - right in the ear no less - of eardrum-shattering proportions. Then a barrage of "NO!" and "I go back to bed NOW!"

This process really used to be a lot easier in the earlier days. However, now that little man is 35 pounds and nearly 3-feet-tall, my back is a constant reminder of just how much little man has grown over the last year. It's one thing to pluck a little 17-pound baby from his bed, but it's another to battle a 35-pound Turtle.

Especially when it's kicking.

And screaming.

And you're pretty sure you just heard your back pop in a spot you didn't even know had vertebrae.

Fortunately, once I have little man dressed and a waffle in front of him, he returns to his normal, chipper self. Just like mama.

And my gleeful, whistling husband knows it is safe to come downstairs and spread his morning cheer.