Lightbulb Moment

Early school mornings often look like this these days. Laying in front of the floor heater vent, breakfast within reach, minimal lighting. George has always been a morning person (versus Emma's night owl behavior), so seeing him so sleepy and cuddly is precious to me. It only takes about 15 minutes though and then he's up and running (literally), playing, eating, jabbering, the usual.

Emma noticed something this morning that I hadn't clued into. Most mornings, once George has gotten past this floppy phase, he starts turning on lights. ALL the lights. Lights we don't usually use, like the bright overhead light in the living room and the two hallway lights. I thought for sure this was just a habit, connected to his love of all things that can be switched, pushed, turned, or otherwise engaged. He doesn't usually do it at any other time of the day, but I figured it had gotten to be part of his routine ("do it once, and it's routine"), and didn't think on it further.

However, rather than it being a tactile sensory response, Emma suggested that it's more of a need for the light itself. George is both very literal and also very receptive to sensory input. That combination reveals itself in these dark early mornings where George must create the environmental surrounding that tell him it is, indeed, morning. Emma pointed out to me that the only other time George floods the house with light is occasionally after dinner; again, now that it is already dark so early in the evening. As soon as I start giving countdown warnings that bathtime is approaching, George races around the house, turning off as many lights as I will allow.

Creating night time.

No one will ever convince me that my children aren't brilliant. Both of them.