At 5:30 am, I provided a ham and cheese sandwich, a cup of gingerbread tea, minor editing and moral support. Oh yes, and a lecture too.  The one about procrastination; that vice that propelled him to the chair in the kitchen at 5:30 a.m. because he realized this paper was a little bit more involved than he anticipated. He didn’t put it all off until 5:30 a.m.; the previous evening, I sat beside him for what seemed like an eternity, providing the sounded board as he expounded, explored and refined the elements of truth in his argument.  Several arguments really.  Instead of thinking what a waste of time this was, I found myself soaking in the very fact that this teenager was adamant about me staying close. Alone with him again that morning, I was angry with him this morning; but at the same time proud; proud that he didn’t blow this assignment off, and gave us the teenager necessity, sleep, to make his paper as perfect as it could be.
And there was this one moment, when he looked over at me, with his still sleepy eyes, and I saw that very same two year old face, the exact same expression he used to wear when he spent all of this available free time on my lap.
Wake up when you’re summoned at 5:30 a.m. You never know what kind of gifts you’ll find waiting for you there.