Elmo/Aga in his pjs
My youngest son, Elmo, has another emerging nickname.
We call him “Aga” in the morning. No, he does not show any resemblance to the actor Muhlach, but “aga”, in English, means “early.”
We always have trouble getting out of bed at 6am. I myself do not go to sleep until I had my me-time fix downstairs, watching tv, arranging my things and planning my activities for the following day. Sleep usually comes between 1 and 2 in the morning. Posting the meal plan on the door of the refrigerator guides the maid on what to prepare for breakfast lest I be too sleepy to give her instructions on what to serve before the kids go to school.
Alarm clocks sometimes work for us. Sometimes, they don't. Elmo, however, does not seem to need any. He is awake at promptly six, and he does not snooze, either. He opens his eyes, realizes it's a new day, gets up and finds his towel so he could start getting ready for school.
It's the same thing when he spends the night at his father's house, some five minutes away. He bids their helper to bring him to my house at six o'clock, and when he arrives, he is the one who wakes us all up. It is not uncommon for me to open my eyes and see Elmo standing by my bedside, wrapped in a towel by the waist, his just-washed hair dripping on my face.
This early, I see signs that Elmo is a creature of habit. When he comes home from school at 130 in the afternoon, he watches Spongebob Squarepants and eats merienda: my pantry has to be stacked with cereals and milk. Pandesal and Crumpy, which he himself has to spread over the bread (he refuses help from me or the helper) and pop into the oven toaster. He starts studying at 4 in the afternoon. When he's done, he folds little pieces of colored paper into animals or things, some sort of a mini-origami.
I notice these things and take comfort that Elmo seems to be have a fair dose of self-discipline. If he carries on with this, he can do anything. Be anything.
But then he spills water on the table , talks too much, puts on the wrong pair of shoes for physical education class, waits for you to tell him to change his shirt five times before he actually does so, and leaves pieces of paper scattered on the living room floor. Such things remind me that Elmo is not an adult, that he's got a long way to go. Even more comforting.
No rush, baby. No rush.