Beware the Fruit That Falls From the Pineapple Tree

KC is being positively snarlish this morning, having once again woken on the wrong side of the hemisphere. Being that she is not a morning person, I wish my daughter would take full advantage of a Saturday and sleep til noon, rather than rise with the chickens at dawn.

Instead she gets up, making more noise than should be humanly possible at an absolutely inane hour, before trudging into my room to tell me some juicy little spot of information she thinks I ought to know. This morning, armed with a local advertisement from A.C. Moore - craft store extraordinaire - I woke to the smell of a freshly printed paper being held close to my face, a small finger pointing out an object on the page.

"A rock tumbler, Mommy," she breathed, taking a moment to point out the bold yellow and red writing, "Look ... It says it's on SALE. Do you think that I could get one for Christmas?"

Afraid to open my eyes for fear of the sunlight streaming into my window, I squinted at the page, murmured something unintelligible and attempted to go back to sleep. KC however was not prepared to be ignored.

"Mom," she said, pausing for the slightest of moments as she waited for my reply. Getting none she opted to try again, raising her voice a decibel this time. "Mom ... Mommmmm ... Mommmmmmm!"

"Oh for God's sake what?" I asked, irritation evident in my voice.

Like a little bull, KC pointed again to the picture. "Can you please get me this for Christmas?"

Not a morning person myself, I was not prepared to be accommodating in the least little bit, answering her in the most noncommittal fashion I could think of - a sort of evil parent's revenge trick if you will.

"We'll see KC." I said, pulling the covers up closer to my head. "Now let Mommy sleep a little bit longer. Play quietly in your room, or go downstairs and watch cartoons. Mommy just needs," I covered my mouth to stifle a yawn, "to sleep a little bit longer before she can face the day."

Disappointed she shuffled back out into the hall, her flannel blanket dragging dejectedly behind her. Stopping once, to look back behind her, her big brown eyes imploring like that of an orphan puppy in search of an owner, I waited for her to whimper.

"Go." I urged her more gently this time. "I'll be up in a little while." I said, even as I knew full well that going back to sleep had stopped being an option 10 minutes before. "Oh well." I sighed to myself, planting my feet firmly on the floor. "Tell me more about this rock tumbler."