Everyone posts happy photos of their kid’s first day in school but no one posts about the trauma they face in getting their offspring out of the house in the first place.

As an exceptional teacher, I once served as the physical alarm clock for a 15-year-old teenager who had a perpetual oversleeping problem. I would go to his house and shake him until he woke up. Some times, I succeeded, but other times, I failed. I did so out of the kindness of my heart because his parents were not around in his life and his grandmother had other grandkids to look after.

Turns out that my firstborn belongs to the kind who can’t wake up easily. I would carry him and place him on the living room sofa and watch anxiously for 20-30 minutes to see if he would gain consciousness and join the rhythm of the awakening city. To distract myself, I went down to buy coffee and then take a shower, but I would be lying if I proclaimed to be Zen throughout this process. I felt that my morning peace had been shattered into smithereens.

Not the most pleasant experience — and this is gonna be my reality for a couple of years to come. 😅