I slept in later than usual this morning and gave myself extra time to myself, which left me in a rush.
I zipped in and out of the shower and quickly got dressed. Passing into my bedroom, I saw the door ajar.
He’s up, I thought to myself. He’s up and looking for me. I glanced at the clock: 7:45. Not bad, but it meant child #2 would be close behind. I felt my first coveted hours of the day slipping through my fingers. Wet hair it is.
“Hey, Mommy, can I play a game while you finish getting ready?” I turned around to see a bleary-eyed Nathan standing in the doorway. I smiled and passed him my phone (a coveted treasure that is used only de vez en cuando).
I hurried to toss some clothes into the washing machine - a job that is quite literally never done. Off to Nathan’s room to sort his clothes for the next load, and then back to mine to hang some clothes up.
“Momma?” came the call, quiet at first, and then growing louder. “Momma? Mom-meeeeeeeee!”
The laundry would have to wait. I changed course and opened Adam’s door.
“Book? Me book. Rock. Sit.” He told me more as a command than a request.
My fingers nimbly worked through their routine: pjs off, diaper changed, clothes on. All while entertaining a chattering, surprisingly happy toddler. We moved over to the gliding rocker, and I settled into the expectation for books, books, and more books.
“No, Mommy, no. Not you sit. ME sit. A-yam sit. I read. I do it.”
His pudgy fingers jabbed into my chest, and he pushed away. Plopping into the seat, Adam cheerfully indicated which books he did (and most definitely did not) want to read. I piled them up and snuck out.
Could it be? Were they really both entertained? At 8:00 am? When their tummies should be grumbling?
Back into the bathroom I dashed, because time waits for no one. Some mornings the stars align, time is on your side, and you get to blow-dry your hair after all.