Most seasoned parents (And by seasoned I mean parents who have two kids or more who are older than five years—untill then you are just a novice) swear that there are laws of Universe conspiring to make their progeny as different as possible from each other. If one likes pizzas and burgers, the other will usually prefer fresh vegetables and low calorie health food.(yes, there are kids like that!) If one likes Nirvana, the other will like Bollywood songs with rhythmic beats and if one is a late bird, chances are the other will most probably be an early riser.

My daughter (who will turn seven in a week, she keeps reminding you) is an early bird. To add to that she is an eager-beaver as well. Bright eyed, bushy tailed, up at the crack of dawn, (Her chirpiness directly proportional to the earlier hour) she will usually go and bring a book and sit on my back (while I am sprawled on the bed, my back becoming a comfortable seat for her) and read aloud. (Because I have left strict instructions that if she wakes up earlier than me, she has to entertain herself unless the house is on fire—in which case she is allowed to wake me) I am a late bird and would have gone to bed only at 1:00 am—and 5:15 am is midnight for me. I have threatened her, cajoled her, begged her, pleaded with her and even tried sleeping with cotton stuffed in my ears—but no avail.

“Maaaaaa….Maaaaaa.” she will go on, in a sweet honey coated voice (which in reality is delightful but at 5:15 am in the morning it is more saccharine, less sugar.) “What is this word?” she will ask. “I am not waking you up maaa..I just want you to tell me one word I am getting stuck, you see—and it is FIRST—ating.”

No, thank you--I don’t want to see and I don't want to see. So I mumble asking her to spell it. Usually the word would be one with an apostrophe or something that is hyphenated—and even a simple word like ‘I’d’ becomes ID when the apostrophe is not read out. So I’ll mumble that I don’t know what it is and plead with her to let me sleep for 10 more minutes.

At this point she will stick the book about 2 centimetres away from my eyes.
"maaa—just see once. If you tell me what it is just once, I promise I will let you sleep."

Deal sealed, I’ll grudgingly open one eye and read out the word.

After precisely one and a half minutes (Just at that point when sleep is slowly descending on me like the sun setting on a clear day) she will say “Maaa…Are 10 minutes over?”

I fixed that problem. At least I thought I did. I taught her how to measure how much a minute is. I taught her to say “One thousand one.. One thousand two. One thousand three and so on up to one thousand sixty. It would take approximately a minute. And for ten minutes she has to say it ten times. She understood perfectly and nodded delightedly at the new discovery.

These days, in addition to “Maaaa…What word is this?” I also have to listen to her shouting “One thousand one, one thousand two…” at the top of her voice at 5:15 am.

I asked her why she does not ever bother my husband. I asked why she does not wake him up for a change. Why does he get away scot free?

“Aww mummy” she said “Papa will never wake up. You always tell me what I want to know. Look ma, if I knew how to read I would not bother you.”

You can’t argue with logic like that.

And secretly I do enjoy it while it lasts. It is nice to be needed—even if it is at 5:15 in the morning.