early
It’s barely light outside and the chirping outside is just warming up with the sun. Richard and I are slumbering in a tangle of quilts and pillows. I wake, most mornings, to a quietly voiced “hi mama” or a touch to my elbow or back. Other times she crawls onto the foot of our bed but she is so active in her not-waking us up, that I’m not sleeping with all the thrashing and tossing of her two elephants.
There are many mornings when just the soft padding of a little girl into the bathroom and into our room wakes me from my dreams. I can hear the soft sounds as she lays on the rug to let us wake up a bit. I wonder what she’s thinking about. Cartoons? Breakfast? Going to daycare?
I stumble out of bed and we go downstairs to eggos, coffee and cartoons. And sometimes, if I’m lucky, she crawls into my lap with her bed head and pajamas, her knees and elbows pulled in and her head tucked under my chin. Sweetness until we dash off in flurry of jackets and bags to the day.
[I'm feeling vulnerable, hold me....]
