Wake Up Little Susie
My dad is a big burly man. If you shake his hand yours will most likely be swallowed by his sausage like fingers. He is as tough as a pine knot and hard as hickory. He walks slowly and is not afraid to smile. A hard day of work is like candy for his soul. His hard exterior covers his teddy bear center. He is as gentle as he is hard but he is much of a man.
When we were young dad would wake us up for school. I can still hear him walking down the halls. Thump. Thump. Thump. Like a giant in our eyes. Each morning he woke us up differently. “Wake up. Goin’ to get some water.” He’d say and we would jump up quickly for fear it might not be a bluff.
On other mornings. *Crack* Thump. *Crack* Thump. No words are needed. It’s the all to familiar sound of his folded leather belt snapping between his hands while he walks. “I’m Awake!” we confirm wide eyed.
And then some mornings he would come and lay down beside us. Wrapping his arms around us well as we slept for just a few more sweet minutes.
But the worst of all were the mornings when he was particularly jovial. “Wake up little Susie! Wake Up!” he would sing in the most enthusiastic voice he could muster. Waves of insult ran up our spines. We are not girls. “Wake up little Susie! Wake Up!” I am not SUSIE! I pull the sheets over my head to drown out the noise. He continues to sing that horrendous song and pulls back the sheets. It’s torture. Pure torture. He smiles and sings. “Stop!” we get out of bed, eager to prove that we are by no means a Susie.
He get’s a kick out of this and one day I hope get to have that same kick. I’ll sing that song at the top of my lungs to my boys just like him. Hopefully they will react the same way and I’ll smile as I remember what it felt like to be called Susie.