My Morning

I can tell by the way my son wakes up, what kind of a day it is going to be.  Some days he wakes up, rubs the sleep out of his eyes, gazes dreamily into my own and says "Hi Mommy".  Those are the good days.  The days that he willingly puts on his coat and boots while blabbing to me about what he is going to do at "school".  Then there are the days that I burn myself on the forehead with the straightening iron because I am startled by the blood curdling scream of "MOMMY" coming from the bedroom.  When I go into the bedroom rubbing my scalded forehead, I proceed with caution.  I am calm and I speak softly as to transfer my demeanor into the likes of my two year old. 
"Hi Little Man, did you sleep well?"
"No, sleep...I want back to bed"
"I know LM, but we have to get up and go to school today, to play with your friends....won't that be fun?"
At this point he is twisting like an alligator that has been lassod.  He is thrusting his hips and shaking his head and I know that it is not going to be one of the jolly mornings.
Once I wrestle the beast out of his damp pajamas he slithers away and gets to the side of the bed that is up against the wall.  The side of the bed that is hard to reach when I am half dressed with a towel on my head.  He sits there naked- challenging me, mocking me, making me sweat.
I remove myself from the situation- I retreat to the bathroom where I finish putting myself together- both physically and mentally.
By the time I get the Little Man into the carseat, I have come close to leaving him all together, or burying my own head back under the pillows.
As I  I strap him in I am feeling exhausted, frusterated and near tears.  I look at the clock and realize  I am running late- now I am stressed. 
Late or not, I need coffee if I am going to make it through the rest of this wonderful Tuesday.  I pull into the store that I frequent in the morning and as I am getting out of my rig, I glance to the left and am slapped in the face with a large, hairy butt crack that is smiling at me as its owner fills his low (because of the size of said butt) tires with air...there is not enough coffee in Columbia to get me through this day.