GAYS MILLS - Weekends at the Schendel-Dremsa household are seldom boring.
They used to be, but that was before a high-energy, demanding toddler entered in the picture.
On Saturday morning at around six a.m., I was getting kicked in the head by my tiny human, who was yelling “WAKE MAMA WAKE!” I responded, “Pleeeasseee, just let me sleep, go kick Dah Dah in the face, he likes it!” That never works for some reason.
I find myself wondering what people like my sister in law do with all of their extra energy from extra sleep. My nephew Parker is a much more reasonable child than Thatcher. It’s also been reported that also sleeps astonishingly well
“We got really lucky, Parker never got into much, he mostly just sat around and drooled,” my sister in law reported. She’s also regaled me during my pregnancy of tales of Parker going to bed at 4 p.m. and not waking until around 9 a.m. the next day.
Hearing this, I remember rubbing my belly joyously, hoping this ability to sleep as solid as a rock was a family trait. I’ll have you know, it’s not.
So, we find ourselves rising early every Saturday and Sunday. Sleeping in has become not getting our eyes forcibly pulled open until 7:45 a.m. Then we feel “more rested than we’ve ever felt.” It’s amazing what an extra hour can do.
This weekend however, we had some excitement to contend with, so getting up- early-bird wasn’t too bad.
It was the first Easter egg hunt of the season. A joyous occasion for any parent or adult who fancies themself childlike.
The event was held at the daycare Thatcher attends in Boscobel. We were all curious about how he would take to such matters. Last year he was still such a little tot that he mostly enjoyed using the eggs as a rattle, rather than hunting and gathering the plastic candy vessels.
Upon our arrival, Thatcher seemed mighty confused. His face looked like, “Wait, why are you BOTH leaving me here?! After all the fun we had this morning! C’mon, I promise next time, I’ll just let you sleep!”
We assured him this was no typical visit to daycare. It was not business, but rather a leisurely visit. None of these words really mean anything to a nearly two year old who just thinks he’s getting dumped off at “TOOOOOL! (aka “school”).
Once inside however, the unusual level of chaos made him feel right at home, and forget his apprehensions about the visit.
Due to the cold, windy weather, the egg hunt was held inside, which made for a unique experience in itself.
The hunt for Thatcher’s age group was held in the room typically reserved for the wee, little babies. With fun mirrors on the wall, funky farm animal carpets, and colorful eggs scattered everywhere, it was like some kind of ‘Paradise Island’ for little people.
With some prompting from Chasca, Thatcher finally picked up an egg and immediately discovered there was a “yummy yummy” inside. This particular “yummy yummy” was made even made more special by the fact he didn’t have to produce any kind of output on a potty chair to be able to eat it.
At this point, any consideration of halting the consumption of sugar was out of the window. Thatcher began furiously demanding eggs be opened for him. He yelled, “OPE OPE!,” and ripped the colorful foils off of the chocolate treasures. In the process he created a nest of foil around him, and a mouth rimmed with chocolate.
As could be expected, he turned feral after this unusual, unbridled consumption of sweets.
To add to the excitement, I won the fanciest cake I’ve ever seen in the parent’s cakewalk.
“CAKE CAKE CAKE CAKE” my little sugar high toddler squealed. “CAKE!” Because I love him and figured there was no going back after the piles of chocolate he had already consumed, I issued him two flowers made of frosting.
This was both a wonderful and horrible idea. Thatcher rubbed the delicious treat all over his hands and face, and began slapping my leg for more.
This, became our cue to leave, as his dad was giving me the “Why would you do that” eyes. And my toddler, pathetically, swiped his hand across his chest in the sign language plea of “please,” while chirping “peas peas peas!!!” with desperation.
Luckily, simply covering the cake and sticking it in the trunk makes it completely disappear. And after such a wild sugar-filled morning, Thatcher took a solid three-hour nap.
Meanwhile, Mama and Dah enjoyed giant slabs of the yellow cake and discussed a strategy to convince the toddler that chocolate was all just a dream, and in fact, isn’t really so delicious and doesn’t actually even exist.
That is, at least not until the next egg hunt rolls around.