When they were about half the size they are now, my two children greeted each day as a new adventure. Something to be embraced with open arms and rushed into. Jesse in particular was wide open the moment the sun even began to think about rising.
I have never seen someone bounce, and I do mean bounce, out of bed with so much energy. The slightest bit of light coming in the window was enough to energize him like he’d been drinking expressos all night. Susan didn’t move quite that fast, but she also got a move on when the light came in.
Now, they are teenagers.
They open their eyes at the crack of 11:30 a.m., hiss, scowl and retreat beneath a mass of sheets, quilts, comforters and pillows. You’d think from the way they react, if they are exposed to sunlight they will crumble into dust like real vampires. Except they probably believe vampires are sparkly in the sunlight like the ones in those abominable Twilight movies.
Except I know they will not sparkle or crumble into dust. Take ‘em to a pool or the beach and they promptly collapse on the ground exposing as much flesh as possible (i.e. what Dad will let them get away with showing) to the sun.
When they finally do clamber out of their sleeping arrangements, a zombie has more life than they do.
“Murrrghph. Blaahouhhgh,” and other sounds I expect to hear from an incontinent elephant issue forth as they stagger around their room, ricocheting off walls, the door, stumbling over clothes on the floor and scratching themselves.
Eventually they make it to the bathroom. Most of the time this is a solitary journey.
Every once in a while they both get up at the same time. Like giant pinballs in a giant pinball machine they bang into furniture and each other as they stumble to the bathroom and get stuck in the door as they both try to force their way in first. One eventually manages to out-muscle the other and gets inside to slam and lock the door.
The one left out begins a banshee wail HHUURRRYYYYYY UUUUPPP! DAAAAAAADD! HE/SHE’S TAKING TOO LONG! MAKE HIM/HER HURRY UP!”
I thusly encourage the teenager embedded in the bathroom to get a move on, reminding said teenager about the last time he or she was stuck outside.
Eventually the door opens and two teenagers collide again to argue about who is supposed to be in the bathroom. When they sort that out, one goes inside the most personal room of the house and the other complains about having to get dressed (AGAIN!).
Total elapsed time between getting out of bed to the bathroom and out again, 3.56 days. At least it seems like that. I know it can’t be more than an hour because there’s nothing to eat the bathroom, except a bunch of herbal and vitamin infused shampoo. Being teenagers, they have to eat half a cow every few hours or they will “STARVE TO DEATH, DADDY! “
Since neither has ever come out of the bathroom foaming at the mouth – well Susan does sometimes but she has a toothbrush in her mouth - I have to assume they’re not trying to eat the soap.
Eventually they are both dressed, although not completely awake yet. I have determined they do not actually wake up until the sun goes down. Which further reinforces my idea that teenagers are some sort of mutant vampire that can be exposed to the sun without sparkling or turning to dust.