My days often start the same. A little face, breathing over me. "Mommy awake?" "I watch TV Mommy?" "Mommy! Here your iPhone." "Mommy, here your glasses."
"Finleigh, please don't touch my glasses." "Okay, thanks for my phone." "You want to watch TV? Let's see what time it is? 5:30? Sigh. Okay."
So, bleary eyed, I put on my fingerprinted glass and squint at the tiny TV we have in the corner of the room. I find a preschool show, take off my glasses and go back to sleep.
Finleigh snuggles in so close that I almost fall off the bed. So, I wake up and pick up my phone. Catch up on what happened on the other side of the Atlantic over night. Check the weather. Procrastinate moving. Think through my day.
"I hungwy." "I so vewy, vewy, hungwy"
Okay honey, lets go downstairs.
We walk down the hallway and I may or may not notice a mess of some sort from her adventures while I was asleep.
We open up the gate that has so far been successful at keeping her upstairs during the night and in the early mornings. I turn on the coffee maker. What do you want for breakfast? I wonder out loud to my lovely daughter who was so happy just one moment ago. Sometimes? She knows. Sometimes? All hell breaks loose.
Like the other day...
While most mornings don't involve pushing over furniture and throwing favourite toys, I can count on one hand the mornings we've gotten out the door without at least one fight over the last couple of years.
It's so very tiresome and yet I somehow manage to show up at school or wherever we're going with a smile on my face. Why is that?