I Love the Smell of Text Messages in the Morning

When Grant was little, no matter what time we put him to bed, he woke up at first light. We would hear his feet hit the floor next to his bed, then the sound of a small stampede, and then he would land on me and exclaim in my face, “Hi, Dad!” It hardly mattered whether it was a weekend or a school day. As the kids got older, Saturdays typically involved early-morning soccer or other sports, and Sundays had Church callings that required early get-ups.

Now we are older. There is one kid at home, he has no soccer on Saturday nor any track meets, and his work almost never starts till 11 am or later. So you would think that we would get to sleep in. But you would be wrong.

At just after seven am, my Apple Watch began to pulse with messages. I rolled over to see what they were, and saw this stream from Lindsay who is nursing a knee injury from the season’s final surgery:

John said if they want an MRI, I should have them order it in Massachusetts. So give the doctor the Massachusetts location I’d want it done in since I’ll be there in two weeks
Is there a place I would go to get an MRI? Cuz I need that info

See, readers, she needed that info THAT INSTANT. At 7:00 am on Saturday! Mostly because the wrestling team had practice, and she had to show at the same time for treatment. So might as well wake Mom and Dad up.

I tried to ignore it and go back to sleep, but then my watch started pulsating again. Now, it was Grant. Because of course. In his case, he had some political sentiments to get off his chest—namely his feeling about the price of crawfish in Louisiana (don’t ask . . . too much to explain).

So for you younger parents out there, I would like to tell you that it’s going to get better. I would like to, but I can’t. Because it’s not. If you have kids, it’s too late—you will never sleep in again, nor will you ever get a decent night’s sleep. I’m sorry. I’m required to speak only the truth. Check back tomorrow for more cold showers.

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