Never Wake Up Before God...

I don't like getting up early.

At all.

Never.

Not for anything.

If Carrie Underwood herself came to my room, at 4am, wearing an "Emily Babydoll," from Frederick's of Hollywood (sheer mesh, with petite black bow at the pleated bust. Underwire cups feature foam padding for lift and shape. Matching panty. Nylon/spandex. Imported!!), and begged me to have my way with her, I would probably ask her to come back in a few hours.

You probably think that I'm crazy. But, if Carrie Underwood were willing to leave her current tour, put on an "Emily Babydoll" (It's real. Swear to God), and come to MY house at 4am, I bet she would be willing to wait a couple more hours. Clearly she thinks I'm worth it. I mean, I'M NOT. But, she doesn't know that, yet. She just got here.

Anyway, my son does NOT take after me. I know this because HE got up at 4am, Sunday, and thought nothing of it. He was wide awake, and full of energy. Hell, HE probably would have let Carrie Underwood stay. It wouldn't have been the same, though. He just would have wanted to play "Pat-A-Cake" with her. Dumb kid. He's got Carrie Underwood, right there, in lingerie and all he wants to do is play "Pat-A-Cake." I'm gonna have to have a talk with that boy.

So, he wakes up at 4am, and it was MY turn to get up with him. I know this because my wife kept kicking me in the back, and telling me that it was my turn. I thought about arguing. But, she'd already been kicking me in the back. I was afraid of what might happen if I started talking back. So, I got up.

At 4am God isn't even awake. The sun is not out. Plus, and probably worst, there is NOTHING on TV. It wouldn't have mattered if there was. My son, Max, was AWAKE. When Max is awake, things are okay. When Max is AWAKE nothing, not even the nuclear codes, are safe.

Being a responsible parent, I determined that my 12 month old son doesn't watch nearly enough TV. I also thought it would be cute to Tivo several episodes of a show called "Max and Ruby."

Max!! Get it!?!!

Cute, huh?

Yeah, no one else thought so, either. But, I tried.

Anyway, "Max and Ruby" is a story about brother and sister rabbits named.....Ready?......Max and Ruby. Genius!!! Max is a little boy rabbit, who doesn't speak much. Every so often he will shout out an random word. Usually it's an object that he sees. I imagine that this is not unlike what someone with a traumatic brain injury does. But, Max is just a baby bunny. So, I think he's okay. His sister, Ruby, takes care of him, and treats him more like a doll. I'm not 100% sure, but I believe that Max and Ruby have been abandoned by their parents, because you never see them. We have not, as of yet, reached the point where the house runs out of food, and Max and Ruby have to eat their own flesh in order to survive. I'm sure it's coming. But, we're not there, yet. So, everything is still happy.

I just decided that NOW, at 4am, was the time to get my son interested in TV. So, I plopped him down in the family room, and turned on what was to become a 2-hour, "Max and Ruby" marathon.

YAY, FOR ME!!!!

Max was not interested. But, at 4am, I was enthralled.

The first episode was about how Ruby wanted to have a tea party. However, in a clever plot twist, TV-Max wanted to play ball. You could cut the tension with a knife!!!

Ruby: We're going to have a tea party, Max.

Me: Look, Max!!! They're gonna have a tea party.

TV-Max: Ball.

Me: Uh-oh. It looks like Max, the bunny, wants to play ball. Could get a little dicey.

Real Max: Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

Real Max, my son, was attempting the leave the family room, and get into the laundry room. He yells when he does this. Sort of a "Braveheart," yell-for-freedom, kind of thing. So, I had to get up, close the laundry room door, and put up the gate that keeps Real Max from going down the hall. When I came back, TV-Max was very happily playing ball.

Me: Aw!!! What happened?

I could have just rewound it. But, I believe in forward momentum, you see. Plus, I was REALLY tired, and my brain wasn't working right.

In our next episode, TV-Max wanted to swing. But, Ruby was afraid that he was swinging too high (still no parents.) So, she decided that TV-Max should play ball instead. This was wise on her part since, as we had established in a previous episode, TV-Max LIKES to play ball.

TV-Max: Swing.

Ruby: No, Max. You swing too high. Why don't you play ball, instead?

TV-Max: SWING!!!

Me: Uh-oh. It's gonna get ugly, in a minute. You better pay attention, Maxie.

Ruby: No swinging, Max. Here, you take this ball and play. I'll be inside.

TV-Max (kicks the ball away): Swing.

Me (laughing): This IS NOT gonna end well.

Real Max: Ahhhhhhhhh......

He was eating dry cat food, out of the cat dish.

It's funny. Just the other day I was thinking that his coat was looking EXTRA shiny.

So, I had to dig all the cat food out of his mouth, wipe off his hands, and put up the OTHER gate that keeps him from getting into the kitchen where we keep the cat food.

When I got back, TV-Max was happily swinging, and the ending music was starting to play.

I'm glad these things are Tivoed, so that I can watch them, later.

I also didn't get to see how TV-Max was able to get the wheel on his truck fixed. This was because Real-Max was ripping up my wife's favorite magazine, and eating it (I'm sure I'll get kicked for that, later.)

I didn't get to see whether or not TV-Max was able to figure out a way to open his birthday presents early, because Real-Max had pulled the phone out of the wall, and was attempting to smash it into submission.

And, I did not get to see whether or not TV-Max was able to plant HIS garden, the way HE wanted to, without the help of that bossy, dominating witch, Ruby, telling him how SHE thought he should do it. This bothered me. It was, after all HIS garden. What business was it of hers?

I'm glad I NEVER had a big sister.

On top of that, I was exhausted.

At around 7am, my wife came downstairs and saw cat food all over, the laundry room door shut, and her magazine, in shreds, on the floor.

My Wife: WHAT have you been doing all morning!?!!

Me (annoyed): Well, I haven't been having sex with Carrie Underwood, that's for damn sure!!

With that, I stumbled back upstairs, and went back to bed.

If Carrie swings by, in an "Emily Babydoll" (I'd prefer black. But, lavender would be good, too), I'm going to let her stay.

At the very least, I bet she wouldn't kick me. But, if she did, I bet I would kinda like it.

Casey