TV Train

I tried to sleep in this past weekend. Until 7:30. Is that even actually considered sleeping in!? My three little ladies have decided that they are ready to go for the day at about 6:15 am. I don’t know why. I blame the sun. Here I’ve been looking forward to summer for the 11.5 months of the Michigan year that fall in a different season, only to have it kick my butt with an early sunrise waking the fair maidens from their peaceful slumber MUCH too early. I am ordinarily passionately anti-TV. Unless it’s pre-7:30 am. In which case – bring on Paw Patrol! It turns out TV makes an adequate babysitter. Especially for kids that have been television-starved for most of their childhood. I think this has turned into some sort of vicious downward cycle for me though. My children have discovered the loophole of early morning TV. If they wake up after me they get no TV. If they get out of bed before me they get TV until I get up. Therefore, math says that the earlier they get up, the more TV they get. And now that this TV Train has left the station, I’m not sure how to get it turned back around. I’m pretty sure within the month we’ll be hitting 4 AM wake ups. But I’m afraid of the damage they would do to my house if I let them roam freely while I lay in my bed. No. Getting up with them is not an option that is on the table. So…I continue to let them turn on the TV; which in turn makes them want to get up even earlier. I don’t even know what they’re watching. They’re getting up early enough now that they’re probably watching late night TV. I think I heard Rose quote Jimmy Fallon the other day. I’m not completely convinced that they didn’t binge watch an entire season of Breaking Bad. Which also explains the meth lab in the basement. I’m just calling it “Elle’s summer science project”. But I am seriously digressing at this point. This post isn’t even about TV! It’s about unmonitored free time. Back to where I was. When I finally arose from my slumber this past weekend I came downstairs and turned the corner into my kitchen to see Scarlett looking like this. She just stared at me completely innocently and said “I need hep cleaning sumping up.” Oh. Really? I couldn’t tell. As I drew closer I realized that she had apparently gotten out Elle’s cup of cinnamon and sugar (don’t judge me – she likes to sprinkle it on toast – and it’s better than her basement meth) and downed it like a shot of tequila. Except she isn’t great at taking shots. (As much as I’ve tried to teach her, she just hasn’t quite mastered the perfect wrist-flip) which means she basically just threw it on her wet face and all over my entire kitchen. When I asked her what happened she simply said “I eat a yittle bit o’ sugar.” Yeah. I’d say. Just a yittle bit. We’re still picking sugar out of the rugs. I’d wash them but it’s not January yet.