Every mother and father out there can relate to the dread you feel as you hear the first rustlings of blankets that early (or earlier) in the morning. You slowly come out of the warm, sleepy state you were in, dreaming of playing house with Dr. House (what IS it with that crusty character that appeals to me? His dialogue is written for him, but damn, he SAYS exactly what other people are thinking and plus, he has nice arms and plays a mean guitar lick...I'm getting off-track here.)...and you hold your breath and think that maybe she's just turning over, upside down or sideways in her crib, or that my son is just pulling his blankets up under his chin to ward off a little chill.
But, no. The next sound I hear is my son grumbling because he can't find his favourite hoodie and stomping around his room because 10 year old boys do NOT tread lightly no matter where they are; and then I hear my daughter standing up in her crib, shaking the sides trying to get them down and she is yelling, "Muummmm-yyy". A delicate, gentle flower she is not. My son bolts down the hallway and I will my legs to move, to get out of bed and get the little princess before she starts really screaming.
Blurry-eyed, I pick her up, along with her doo-doo (her bear blanket), her two bébés, a book, and she MUST have her housecoat and her pantouffes (her slippers); and we head to the kitchen to make the coffee together. My son has escaped to the family room to watch cartoons.
My hubby isn't home in case you are wondering. He left early the day before to go to our cottage to do fix-it-man-stuff....lucky bastard.
The military and police use various forms of torture to get what they want out of the bad guys, right? I am certain that it all began with a couple of parents who said, "Hey guys, I've got a great solution to getting X to confess...It's called 'Parenthood'. Sleep deprivation in its finest form."
Finally, the coffee is ready.
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