NINETY MINUTES OF SLUMBER

‘Are you sure it’s 6,10 and not 7,10?’, I had a hard time grasping the really early time slot for a band solo check-in. And it lasting only 10 minutes – something I didn’t learn until the end of the day.

‘Yes, I’m sure’, my son replied, clearly not thrilled at having to wake up earlier than normal for the third time in the past week.

Seeing how my sleep deficit was fairly low into the negative hours, I stayed in bed. School was a three-to-five-minute walk. He could walk by himself. He refused breakfast, claiming he wasn’t hungry so early in the morning, but I told him I would bring him lunch. As I did last Friday. He liked that idea.

I slept for close to two more hours before getting a text from my son, letting me know that his teacher approved of his playing and had one suggestion for the tempo. I was still very tired but knew I had to start work soon.

The peaceful sounds of rain and thunder did nothing but make me sleepier and wish for a day of sitting in front of the fireplace. That is, if I had a fireplace. One day, I reason. Just not now.

After a simple, but late, breakfast of bread with avocado, I continued with my work day. When it was time for my son’s lunch, I drove over to the school to take him a warm, freshly made bean burrito.

The day continued and turned into evening. As we drove back home from kickboxing class, my son let me know that he was so sleepy he slept for the entire English class. Ninety minutes of slumber.

‘The teacher didn’t say anything?’, I wondered how he got away with laying across two chairs in the back of the room, under a desk. I also wanted to know if he told her that he has been up since five this morning.

‘She said it wasn’t her problem and that I will have homework to do’, he replied. Clearly, he needed the sleep. But the teacher did not seem to care or want an explanation. At least he was able to sleep. That’s all that matters in the end. We’ve already started counting down to the weekend, when we will both plan on sleeping in longer.