My mornings start with mom coming into my bedroom and waking me

Hear the words of Alex Wolff, who speaks with humor yet unveils the ordinary struggles of youth: “My mornings start with mom coming into my bedroom and waking me up, or trying to wake me up, and then I go back to sleep. Then my mom wakes me up again and yells at me. Then she’ll get me to wake up, and I’ll get dressed and go to school. We go to school, and my teacher tells me that I didn’t do the homework well enough. And that’s that.” At first glance, it is the playful tale of a boy reluctant to rise, yet within it lies the timeless rhythm of childhood—the struggle between duty and desire, comfort and responsibility, and the ceaseless call of life to rise again, even when one falters.

The heart of this saying rests in the daily battle with discipline. The morning is the first trial of the day: the warmth of sleep whispers “stay,” while the voice of the mother insists “rise.” This is no small thing, for the pattern of resisting and rising is the same pattern that echoes throughout life itself. In youth it is waking for school, in adulthood it is waking for labor, for duty, for the demands of destiny. The struggle against inertia, the call to overcome reluctance, is one of the most ancient struggles of humankind.

The ancients knew this well. Marcus Aurelius, the Roman emperor and Stoic, wrote in his Meditations: “At dawn, when you find it hard to get out of bed, remind yourself: I must go to work—as a man, as a human being.” His struggle was the same as Alex Wolff’s: the battle between comfort and purpose. Though centuries apart, both remind us that to rise each day is an act of courage, and to answer the call of duty, even reluctantly, is the first victory of the soul.

The role of the mother in this tale is no less important. She is both nurturer and disciplinarian, the voice of persistence, pulling her son from the dream-world into reality. Just as the Spartan mothers sent their sons to war with the words, “Return with your shield, or on it,” so too does Alex’s mother, in gentler but no less persistent form, demand that he face the day. Her voice, raised in frustration, is in truth the ancient call of responsibility, a reminder that love often pushes us toward the very struggles we resist.

And what of the teacher, who finds fault with the homework? This too is part of life’s rhythm: even when we answer the call to rise, even when we step forward into duty, we find correction, imperfection, and challenge. The disappointment of the teacher mirrors the trials of the world itself, which often tells us we are not yet enough. Yet these judgments, though painful, shape us. Just as iron is refined by fire, so the child is refined by correction.

The sadness and simplicity of Wolff’s conclusion—“And that’s that”—is itself wisdom. Life is not always glorious, nor is each day triumphant. Many days are woven of small frustrations: the reluctance to rise, the scolding of a parent, the critique of a teacher. Yet in enduring them, in facing them without collapse, the child learns resilience. These small struggles prepare the heart for greater ones, for he who learns to rise from bed and face the rebuke of the classroom will one day rise to face the challenges of the world.

The lesson for us, children of tomorrow, is clear: do not despise the small struggles, for they are the training ground of the soul. Each morning you resist the call to rise, yet rise anyway, you strengthen your spirit. Each correction you endure with humility, you sharpen your character. Each demand of love—be it from a mother, a teacher, or life itself—though it frustrates you, is a gift that prepares you for greater things.

Practical wisdom follows: set yourself to rise when called, not only by your alarm, but by your responsibilities. Accept correction without bitterness, knowing it is part of your shaping. And when life feels like nothing more than a cycle of waking, working, and faltering, remember that these humble rhythms build the foundation of greatness. For even in the ordinary frustrations, the heart is being trained for extraordinary strength. Thus Alex Wolff’s words, though lighthearted, carry a timeless truth: every day begins with struggle, and every day’s true triumph is simply to rise.