By Heather O.
I am not a morning person. Not at all. I’ve tried, I really have, to make mornings my friend, but our relationship is tenuous at best.
And so in an evil twist of fate, I ended up marrying a morning person.
And DH isn’t just a morning person. He’s like a morning Golden Retriever. Tail wagging, mouth twisted in a goofy grin, it’s clear the man was built for playing fetch in the pre-dawn hours. In a previous life, he was totally one of these kind of dogs (and I’m talking about the white one, not the black one):
So the other day, he was getting ready to leave for work, which meant that I had to get up and be a functioning parent. I asked him, meekly, to help me get out of bed, but to do so WITHOUT VIOLENCE, as he’s been known to honor such a request by ripping off the covers and dragging me out of bed by one leg.
He smiled, and said, “I know just what to do.”
He gently turned on my bedside table lamp, causing me to squint.
“NO VIOLENCE!” I griped at him.
“I understand. Just wait,” he chuckled. I couldn’t tell if it was a friendly sound of mirth, or an evil sound of world domination.
He then began shuffling through our DVDs, and selected one I couldn’t see. He put it in, and immediately an annoying and LOUD commercial came on.
“TURN IT OFF!” I yelped. “I told you, NO VIOLENCE!”
Still chuckling, he clicked through to the menu, and I hear singing.
“The Sound of Music?” I crane my neck to see if that’s what I recognized. “Really, you’re putting on The Sound of Music? THIS is supposed to get me out of bed?”
“Just wait”, he said again, still grinning.
I roll over so I can see the opening credits, as they pan over Austria and the Alps. I love the opening shots of that movie, and I thought, What the heck? He put in a movie I love so I can lie here all day watching it?
Then, THEN! Maria shows up, running up the hill with the never gets old swelling of “The HIIIIIIILLS are ALLLLLIVE,” and I can’t help but sing along with her. I mean, it’s MARIA. She’s SINGING. She’s talking about the BROOK as it trips and falls over stones on its way. Then comes the ultimate, the helicopter shot that zooms over here as she twirls on the grass and opens her mouth, and suddenly I am singing with her, standing up in front of the TV, twirling with her, belting out at the top of my lungs, “I GOOOOOO to the hills, when my heart is looowwwwnleeeee”.
It is only when Maria realizes she is late for prayer that I realize I am out of bed.
My husband laughs gleefully, takes me in his arms and kisses me on the top of my head.
“You’re welcome,” he said.
A love story, I tell ya. I mean, how can you NOT fall head over heels for a man who uses The Sound of Music to get a woman out of bed? And even I am impressed that he knows me well enough to predict that our soft feather mattress couldn’t compete with singing with Maria. (Although perhaps I should be embarrassed that a musical could get me to throw off the covers with gusto to sing my guts out. I mean, is that an embarrassing thing? Doesn’t everybody frequently and randomly break out into song when they see The Sound of Music? Or am I revealing some quaint but slightly bizarre aspect of my childhood?)
And I must say that The Sound of Music is SO much more effective than jumping on the bed and shaking his hair at me after a shower. Just a tip for the rest of you who might be married to a morning Golden Retriever too.
And just because I love you all so very much, here’s a little Sound of Music fix. It’s not the clip that got me out of bed, but it probably would have worked, too. Don’t say I never gave you anything.
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