"GOOD MORNING!" It's 6:30 am. I am still downstairs in bed, dreaming, but I can hear all of this. It seems she woke the babe-in-utero, also. The Man, perking the morning coffee, switched on the dispos-all---something I avoid doing if the sun isn't up. (If you ask him, I avoid it more often than that. I just don't like switching it on at every crumb that falls.) There are certain noises that must be universally forbidden in the morning, that metallic grind is one of them.
I can tell by the timber of Miss Monkey's voice, she's been awake for a while. It's about time to start working with a clock I think, talking about numbers, discussing the times of day in more detail. It's rather well known by my adoring husband that I'm not so much an instant morning person, as a post-coffee-&-workout morning person. I much prefer to start my morning in the quiet, alone for the dawn time, and watch the household wake up. Woe to the poor soul that rouses me before I'm ready, I haven't been able to get my morning ritual back---something about being pregnant, being alone when I'm not really alone? I feel ambushed, attacked. Especially considering my gestating condition right now. The Man is the only person that really knows how to wake the slumbering Ada. This is something I am admittedly working on. This morning I am particularly annoyed as I was mid-dream when I heard the first born drop from her bed. The right side of the bed, suddenly became wrong, and I am in a funk. I want to think it's sweet anytime the little person(s) climb into bed with us. The bouncing, wriggling, loud-mouth, though is just not my chosen AM catalyst over calories and coffee. (yes, I can have 1/2 cup per day right now, and no more)
So while I work on remaking my attitude this gorgeous January morning. I will share this impromptu dance video, a la Prairie Home mid-Sunday broadcast ,taken with The Man's swami new phone.