Z is for ZOMBIE. Otherwise known as the undead. Otherwise known as any teenage boy cruelly roused from his bed before the crack of noon.

True, there are no doubt young lads who leap lightly and joyfully from their beds and go out to work, or play sport or do Good Works or learn 100 Latin verbs before breakfast, but they are, alas, the exceptions. Treasure them.

The rest of them groan, moan and cling to their beds. When finally prised out of their pits, they stagger downstairs with all the vim and vigour of a grizzly bear aroused three months too soon from hibernation. And quite often smelling about as sweet too.

They totter into the kitchen, bleary eyed and baffled by their surroundings. The fridge is in exactly the same place as it has been for their entire lives, but they still have difficulty tracking it down. Eventually, some primitive survival instinct leads them to the orange juice or the cereal and milk. Then, that mission having been achieved, they have another scratch and then slump back into a comatose state again.

Senior Son was once in hospital after a blow to the head. Before they let him out the next morning, the nurse held up three fingers in front of his eyes and asked him to count.

"Um..." he groaned blankly, overwhelmed by the difficulty of it.

There was nothing wrong with his head, it was the time that failed him - it was still only eight o'clock in the morning.

The staff nurse was concerned. The sister not at all. She had teenage sons of her own and knew, all too well, the nature of the beast.

I have known mothers of teenage boys convinced that their sons had some serious debilitating illness. Why else would their bright and bouncy little boy have morphed into this lumbering, slumbering creature from the black lagoon?

Adolescence, that's why.

Apparently, teenagers actually need more sleep than the rest of us. It's when they grow and as mine now tower over their very tall father, you can see that they did an awful lot of sleeping. It's also said to be when their brains develop. Mmmm.

Senior Son used to do a paper round entirely in his sleep. Wander v-e-r-y s-l-o-w-l-y round the village, while householders held their breath wondering if he'd ever make it up their garden path with The Northern Echo before he lapsed back into unconsciousness.

One of his friends did a milk round. Such a bright lad, I thought. He'd be up at 6am. I would often have a quite sensible, pleasant conversation with him as he delivered our pinta to the doorstep. Then on non-school days he would go home, go straight back to bed and if I saw him later in the day, he would have absolutely no recollection whatsoever of our early morning chat.

One of the great joys of my life is that I no longer have to get boys up and out of bed in the morning. Bad enough on normal school days, but during exams it was a real nightmare. I would start at around 6am - just to make sure they were up, dressed and breakfasted, and on the bus by 8.15.

Other parents wanted their children to be well fed, well groomed and with some last minute revision. I was just glad if mine were awake.

It all changes of course. Once they're awake, they are filled with ZEST, ZIP and ZEAL for all the things that boys love best. Their energy and enthusiasm can be glorious and wonderful - a true reminder of what youth is all about. It's a joy to behold and a privilege to share.

Then the sun rises in the sky and, like Dracula in the light of day, our boys flinch further back under the covers. Best not to disturb till noon at least.

Z-z-z-z-z-z...

Published: 13/11/2003