Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Declan

My young second grader begins each day with one of two personalities. As you might guess, one of them is quite pleasant and the other, not so much.

I have determined that the early morning persona he embodies is almost entirely related to whether or not he gets to bed on time.

During one of his pleasant mornings last week he was particularly interested in my opinion and asked for my advice on a variety on topics. Given the dread my high school daughter projects, whenever I attempt to give her advice, I rather enjoyed the brief conversation with Declan.

"What should I be when I grow up Dad?" he asked as we gathered our things to head out the door for school.

I responded that I didn't know and told him to think of something he enjoyed doing. He was apparently in a hugging mood and as I attempted to walk past him he wrapped both of his arms around my wrist and placed his cheek on my arm in a show of affection.

"I want to be, what you want me to be. A basketball player? You want me to be a basketball player?" he suggested, knowing I would approve.

"Of course, I would love that, but you have to find something you enjoy. Didn't you want to be a scientist?" I said, as I began playfully dragging him out the door.

"That's what I will be," he responded excitedly, "either a basketball player or a scientist."

After dropping him off at school a few minutes later I couldn't help but think of the stark contrast in early morning experiences when compared to the morning prior.

The previous day he had donned the, "not so pleasant" personality.

I drug him out the door that day too, only "not so playfully" and with a lot of growling on my part.

As I pulled our car onto the street in front of our house it was everything I could do to calm myself after 40 minutes of prodding Declan to get ready for school.

Just as I began to calm down and felt my heart rate lessen, as I realized we were going to make it on time, Declan yelled from the backseat.

"What are you trying to do, kill me?" he hollered, with about as rude a tone as I think he could muster.

"What?!" I replied, as I shot him a stern yet confused gaze through the rearview mirror.

"I don't even have my seat belt on and you're driving away!" His matter-of-fact tone not going unnoticed, as he clicked his seat belt into place and crossed his arms in disgust.

Yesterday morning began as an almost identical experience, except that as I was beginning to calm down and he barked at me from the back seat, the topic was his clothes.

"Why did you make me wear these shorts! I'm freezing," Declan growled as he chattered his teeth. Given our recent 90 plus degree temperatures, I could only find humor in that complaint.

"Trust me buddy, you won't be cold for long," I replied.

Declan's response was, as you might expect, confusing. Pausing between words to allow his teeth to chatter a few times he said, "Mom... said I... should be in a... crazy house."

After hearing yet again my patented, "What?!" response, Declan explained that during his summer visit with his mother he had been cold after getting out of the swimming pool. He couldn't stop chattering his teeth so his mom told him if he didn't stop, people would think he belonged in the crazy house.

"You are funny," I replied.

"Should I be a comedian? Should I practice to be that?" Declan asked in response, reminding me of our conversation from the week prior.

"It can't hurt to give yourself options. Think of how much fun life would be if you just laughed at everything," I said.

Declan replied by stretching a wide grin across his chattering cheeks and the car suddenly seemed to get a little warmer.