The orange spotted monster alarm clock bared its teeth and started honking quietly at 6:30. It gradually got louder and within minutes, the sound filled the big bedroom, bouncing off the stuffed animals gathered in their suspended net, ricocheting off the wooden loft bed frame, and reaching Clark’s ears.

He launched the Where the Wild Things Are embroidered quilt off of his body with a kick of his feet and shouted, “Let the wild rumpus start!” as he leapt out of bed and onto the overstuffed fuzzy-wuzzy beanbag below, even though his mother told him that he shouldn’t jump from so high because he could get hurt.

Clark grabbed his lion baby blanket and tied it around his neck like a cape. He climbed into the alcove in his eaves wall where his droopy dog, Max, slept, and pulled out his felt crown. He began humming and marching around the room with his paper towel and golf ball scepter.

“Knockedy-knock-knock!” his mother sang from the small open crack in the door.

Clark froze mid-march with one knee raised high and his scepter wielding hand straight above his head. He balanced on one foot and responded, “knock-knock!” in the same sing-songy voice.

She walked into the room, crouched down so she could be eye-level with him, arms spread wide. She smiled at her boy, in absolute awe that she’d met yet another day in his life and he was still completely real. She was continuously surprised that she wasn’t trapped in a coma, living in a dream world that revolved around having the perfect son.

“Momma!” Clark shouted and ran into her arms, hugging more tightly than usual, but then again, his usual was recoiling from her touch.

She blinked back tears of gratitude, squeezed him tightly, lifted him off the ground, and whispered, “I’ll eat you up, I love you so” in his ear.

He giggled and wriggled out of her arms, plopped down onto the floor, and placed his hands on his hips. Max the Basset Hound groggily crawled out of his bed and stood by his boy’s side, wagging his tail with this too-long tongue lolling out of his mouth.

His mother put her hands on her knees and looked into his explosively hazel eyes. She said, “So, has the wild rumpus started yet?”

Clark raised his scepter high and pointed at the still-honking monster alarm clock. “Momma! It’s seven am! Of course it already started!”

“Well, well, well,” she said, “How could you start without your KW?”

“Sorry, Momma, you know the rules. Let’s march.”

So they marched and marched around the Jupiter shaped area rug humming and humming the Star Spangled Banner until 7:15 am on the dot. Clark stopped in his spot and shouted, “Halt, Momma!”

She halted.

“Momma, it’s Wednesday,” he said with a solemn expression.

“Yes it is.”

“Momma, can I wear the mask?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” she said after a few moments of contemplation.

Clark stripped down and put on a clean pair of underpants, his favorite Wednesday ones with the monkeys and the bananas. He reached into the bottom drawer and pulled out his blue jeans and grey long-sleeved waffle tee with a stitching of Maurice Sendak’s Max that she put on all of his shirts. He sat down in the middle of Jupiter and began wiggling into his jeans.

She made a sound like a wrong answer—EHHH! And he looked up, shocked that he missed something.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” she asked.

He raised a finger to his temple and rhymed, “Forget, forget, forget, for what, I don’t know yet! Momma, what does it rhyme with?”

She loved it when he rhymed. “I believe it rhymes with…clocks!”

He closed his eyes and scrunched up his nose in thought. “Clocks, clocks, clocks, what could possibly rhyme with clocks? Is it…ROCKS?”

“Cold!” she said.

“Is it….SMOCKS?” he asked.

“Getting warmer,” she said.

“Oh, oh, oh, it’s SOCKS!” he exclaimed.

“Hot! Hot! Hot!” she said.

He put on his socks and the rest of his clothes. He crouched down and kissed Max, and then he walked over to the fort under his bed and pulled his mask out from its spot on the wall under the star shaped lamp.

“Momma, can you help me?” he asked as he held it out to her.

She sat on the beanbag and adjusted the mask on his face. “There. Now, why do you want to wear the mask today?”

“Because I’m Super Clarkito the Magnificent, Momma!” he said as he did a little dance.

“Why does Super Clarkito the Magnificent need to hide his handsome face from the other kids at school?”

 He put his hand on her shoulder in a mini-adult gesture and said, “Momma, I’m not hiding! I really am magnificent! The mask just shows it to everybody!”

“You are magnificent, Super Clarkito,” she whispered as she kissed his forehead.

“Thanks, Momma! And now…to BREAKFAST!”