A morning in our house. All times are approximate.
5:35 a.m.: Boy child walks into bedroom. “Mommy, I need breakast.” (He leaves off the “f.”)
5:37 a.m.: Mom staggers to the kitchen, blindly grabs a box of Life cereal and a bowl, pours cereal and milk, offers a spoon to boy child, who evenly distributes his cereal into the milk. Mom smiles at his preciseness then staggers back to bed.
5:45 a.m.: Boy child wanders back in to bedroom. “Mommy, I need more.”
5:46 a.m.: Mom shuffles back out to the kitchen, refills the cereal bowl with Life and milk. Back to bed.
5:50 a.m.: Boy child returns with whine in his tone. “Mommy, you gave me too much!” Dad intervenes and asks if boy child would like to crawl into bed with Mommy while Dad gets ready for work. Boy child crawls into bed. “On Dad’s side!”
6:10 a.m.: Mom sneaks a peek at boy child, who has gotten quiet. His eyes are closing and opening slowly. Mom wonders if maybe a few more minutes of sleep are in the cards.
6:12 a.m.: Boy child rolls over, points a finger at Mommy’s nose and says sweetly, “Hi, Mommy.” He repeats this three times, each time getting closer to sticking his finger up Mommy’s nose.
6:15 a.m.: Boy child is fully awake and begins rolling around on his side of the bed. “Stinky feet for breakfast!” he giggles as he puts his feet in Mom’s face. Mom pretends to sleep, to no avail.
Sometime between 6:15 a.m. and 6:30 a.m.: The girl child has awakened, used the potty and is changing the toilet paper roll. She brings it to the bedroom as an offering, having told her Dad, “It’s never been this hard for me.”
By 6:30 a.m. we are all out of bed, gathering in the kitchen. The girl child is slathering cream cheese on her mini-bagels. The boy child insists he’s still hungry. Dad is eating breakfast. Mom is in desperate need of a shower.
6:50 a.m.: The coffee’s on. The kids are fed. Dad is almost out the door. Now it’s only 12 hours till bedtime. And you wonder why I drink coffee?
