The return of Sponge Bob

My biggest fear about school starting had nothing to do with classes, homework, teachers, or even diabetes. No, my biggest worry was getting Mark out of bed every day.

See, most parents have kids that automatically pop up around 6 a.m. Those kids open their eyes, greet their parents warmly, and head off to breakfast. That is not my kid. My kid can easily sleep until 8 or 9 everyday, no matter how early he retires the night before (for which I am eternally grateful on weekends, but weekdays are a whole different story).

On weekdays, my kid usually grunts, pulls the covers over his head, and refuses to get up.

I can fully understand this; I am not a morning person either. I require an electric cattle prod or something stronger to get me out of bed before 7 a.m. But this is not math, where two negatives equal a positive; this is real life, where two night owls start their morning with the following grumpy exchange.

Mom: "Mark, time to get up."

Mark: "No. I don't wanna get up yet. I'm going back to sleep."

Mom: "I don't wanna get up either. But we have to."

So my nightmares actually begin after I wake up. It's no fun to wake up and immediately start arguing.

It got so bad that I eventually broke down and bought the biggest alarm clock I could find. It's got a happy Sponge Bob on the face, but the noise it makes is anything but happy.



It's downright terrifying, especially when it jolts you awake. The bells sounds like a fire alarm, and the only thing worse than the incessant ringing is the fact that it doesn't eventually go off by itself. So if Mark doesn't physically get out of bed to turn it off, it keeps ringing.

The first few times I used it, back when my cousin Kathleen still lived with us, Mark counteracted it with his steely resolve. It rang throughout the house, a shrill, deafening noise I thought might drive me crazy. We waited for him to turn it off, but he just let it ring.

"I can't believe he's sleeping through that!" I shouted over the din, but Kathleen shook her head.

"He's not sleeping," she yelled back. "He's ignoring it. He can't for long."

But he did. I finally gave in, and turned it off. I didn't want to go deaf.

Eventually, Sponge Bob did do the trick. Mark grew to fear the shrill ringing, and eventually hid Sponge Bob in the closet. He didn't want any visual reminders of his existence.

And the closet is where Sponge Bob sat until last week. Mark was getting up progressively later as the summer wore on, and I knew where that was leading. So when school started last week, I silently moved Sponge Bob back onto his dresser.

Mark's eyes grew big, and I swear he started to tremble a little.

"No!" he cried. "Not Sponge Bob! I'll get up, I promise!"

And so I compromised. I set my clock radio for 6:55 every morning, and the Sponge Bob alarm at 7. When Mark hears my alarm go off, he scrambles out of bed to turn Sponge Bob off, and get ready.

It's worked like a charm so far, just the threat of that deafening clang. And I am grateful it has, because the noise is so loud and so scary, that even I'm wide awake and on edge at 6:55.

The bad news is that we have a new dictator in charge -- a little yellow sponge. But the good news is we've been early to school and work every day so far.

So thank you, Sponge Bob...I think.