Proud mama

I did not write this.

My 11-year-old daughter did. She is in the 5th grade.

Believe it or not, she got a bad grade on this assignment.  It was supposed to be an expository piece (A type of writing where the purpose is to inform, describe, explain, or define the author's subject to the reader - Wikipedia). Instead, she wrote this:

I despise waking up. You have a great dream, BOOM! The school week hits you in the face -- Monday through Friday.

It’s like the soft white cloud above your head starts raining on you. How I woke up today? Don’t ask.

                “Riiiiiiiiiing!” screams my alarm clock. My heavy eyelids creak open. Awake? "Nooooo," I groan. Half asleep? Possibly. I hit my alarm clock as it falls. Crash! Broken? No. Indestructible forever? Of course.

                “Bite ‘er Lolleigh! Sic ‘er!” my mom commands jokingly. Never works. Lolleigh just licks my face lovingly. She

makes me feel better, even at 7 AM. Her soft white fur, a puffy cloud. I could fall asleep petting he-

                “C’mere Lolleigh!” my mom says.

I’m up. Shirt, shorts, socks, shoes. I walk to the bathroom. Hair, teeth, face, hands. Done. 

I trudge downstairs. Waffles and chocolate milk for breakfast.  That's the best food. Eggo waffles, Nesquik milk, and maple syrup. 

 My mom yells at Leigheaux for peeing on he chair. He's my rain cloud. Sigh.          

      Waking up is hard. Great dreams, Monday. Monday is a mighty monster slurping me up like I am a pasta noodle. Yuck.

Every word is true.

The calm before the storm.

She is the worst-waker-upper in the world, no matter what time she goes to bed. A grump.  A beast. She growls. She snarls. She doesn't bite (not so far anyway). She does stomp and slam things.

No matter how sweetly I attempt to wake her up.  No matter how many songs I sing or rhymes I make or tickles I give, she hates mornings.  She kind of hates me in the mornings.

Waffles and chocolate milk do kind of help, however. By the time she gets on the bus she's willing to kiss me with only a hint of a snarl. 

I hate mornings too.  Like me, she likes to write about it.


I still believe she is from Mars.

And I am a very proud Martian Mama.