Morning sunlight slipped gently through the curtains, casting soft golden lines across the bedroom floor. Birds chirped outside, the kind of cheerful morning song that usually made the house feel alive. But in Liza’s room, everything was quiet—so quiet that anyone passing by would think the room was empty.
It wasn’t.
Under a giant fluffy blanket, shaped like a sleeping mountain, lay Liza—completely still, completely buried, and completely determined not to wake up.
Liza was the kind of girl who loved evenings, stories, drawing, and playing with her little cousins. But mornings… mornings were her worst enemy. She felt as if her blankets were magical vines wrapping her up, refusing to let her escape. And today was one of those mornings.
Her mother gently opened the door.
“Liza?” she called softly. “It’s time to wake up, sweetheart.”
No answer.
Mother took a step closer.
“Liza? I know you’re awake. I can hear you holding your breath.”
The blanket mountain didn’t move.
Mother sat on the edge of the bed. “Is this one of those mornings?”
A tiny groan came from inside the blankets. “Mmm… no wake up…”
“What happened? Did you sleep late?”
Another groan. “Sleep good. But no wake up.”
Mother smiled. She knew this version of Liza well—a sleepy bear who wanted nothing more than to keep dreaming.
“Tell me why you don’t want to wake up today,” she asked, brushing her hand across the blankets.
Slowly, a small piece of Liza’s messy hair poked out. “Because…” she whispered dramatically, “it’s too early. Too cold. Too bright. Too everything.”
Mother chuckled. “Too everything? That sounds serious.”
“It is,” Liza said, pulling the blanket back over her head.
But today wasn’t just any day. It was Saturday—market day—Liza’s favorite. She loved walking through the stalls with her mother, tasting fruit samples, smelling fresh bread, and choosing one sweet treat to take home. Usually, she jumped out of bed faster than a squirrel.
But today she felt different—slow and heavy, like her body was still stuck in a dream.
Mother didn’t want to push her. She knew kids sometimes had days when waking up felt harder than usual.
“Alright,” she said softly, “I won’t force you. But can I sit here a little?”
A small hand poked out from under the blanket and patted the bed beside her. Mother smiled and sat down again.
For a moment, they sat in silence. Then Liza peeked out again.
“Mom, do you ever not want to wake up?”
Mother nodded. “Of course. Everyone feels that way sometimes. Even grown-ups.”
Liza looked surprised. “You too?”
“Me especially,” Mother said with a laugh. “But I get up because something better is waiting outside the blanket.”
“Like what?” Liza murmured.
“Well…” Mother said slowly, as if telling a secret. “Like warm pancakes. And fresh strawberries. And maybe a little honey on top.”
Liza’s blanket mountain trembled.
Mother continued, “And maybe a warm cup of milk. And maybe—just maybe—your favorite seat at the market bakery, the one that lets you watch people walk by.”
Suddenly, the blanket shifted completely, revealing Liza’s sleepy face.
“Mom…” she said seriously. “Are you trying to trick me?”
Mother widened her eyes innocently. “Who, me? Trick you with pancakes? I would never.”
Liza narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “But you know I love pancakes.”
“That’s true,” Mother said. “But I also know you can stay in bed if you want. No rush.”
For the next moment, Liza lay very still, staring at the ceiling. She thought about her warm blanket, the comfort of sleep, the soft pillow under her head. But then she thought about pancakes… strawberries… honey… and the market bakery.
Her stomach began to growl—loudly.
Mother chuckled. “Sounds like someone’s waking up.”
“Nooo…” Liza groaned, covering her face with the blanket again. “My tummy is waking up. Not me.”
But her mother gently pulled the blanket down. “Your tummy and you are teammates, you know. Maybe it’s time for both of you to get up.”
Liza pouted.
Mother leaned closer and whispered, “Want me to carry you to the kitchen?”
Liza’s eyes widened. “I’m too heavy!”
“Not for me.”
And just like that, Liza smiled.
Slowly, she sat up, her hair sticking out in all directions like a fluffy lion’s mane. Her eyes were half-open, but there was a tiny sparkle showing she was beginning to wake up.
Mother wrapped her arms around her and lifted her gently from the bed.
Liza clung to her like a sleepy koala.
“You’re warm,” she murmured.
“That’s because I’m awake,” Mother joked.
As they entered the kitchen, the smell of warm breakfast filled the air—pancakes sizzling lightly, strawberries sliced on a plate, honey shimmering on the table.
Mother placed Liza on her chair. “Look at that. Your seat was waiting for you.”
Liza rubbed her eyes and smiled a small sleepy smile. “Maybe waking up is not too bad…”
Mother made a dramatic gasp. “Did you say… not too bad? Liza, that’s like saying a rainbow is just a little colorful!”
Liza giggled softly. “Okay, okay. Maybe it’s good.”
They ate together, the morning soft and peaceful. Liza slowly became less sleepy with each bite, her energy returning like sunlight rising higher in the sky.
After breakfast, Mother asked gently, “So? Market today?”
Liza stretched her arms. “Yes! I’m awake now.”
Mother ruffled her hair. “I’m glad you woke up when you were ready.”
Liza nodded proudly. “Next time I don’t want to wake up… can you come sit with me again?”
“Always,” Mother said, pulling her into a hug.
And with that, Liza put on her shoes, grabbed her favorite small bag, and skipped toward the door.
The morning that started with a stubborn blanket mountain ended with sunshine, laughter, and the promise of a beautiful day.
Because sometimes, all it takes to wake up…
is a little love, a little patience, and a plate of warm pancakes.
