I’ve always been a bit of a grump in the mornings, I am not what you’d call a “morning person”. I like to wake up slowly, make my way downstairs and take a good half an hour over my first cup of coffee before starting the day. Only once I’ve had that vital coffee do I feel up to having a shower and getting dressed.
I don’t think I’m alone in needing that caffeine kick up the arse but to my almost-8-year old, you’d think I was from another planet.
Little Miss bounces out of bed every morning, generally no later than 6am, full of the joys of life. EVERY SINGLE MORNING. Now whilst this is wonderful and we’re so fortunate to have such a happy little girl, just once in a while it’d be nice to sit staring at the news with my coffee without being asked to watch her skip across the room or listen to her songs or answer a trillion questions about why the sky is blue or how birds fly when she can’t if she makes wings out of paper.
This morning, I made the HUGE mistake of peering out from beneath my eye mask at the exact moment she peered in through the crack in the bedroom door. She bounced into bed, looked at the clock which displayed 06:33 and said “Mum, I’ve been up for 33 minutes, you need to stop lazing about in bed and get up”. Wonderful.
Little Man is taking after his big sister and generally likes to have races from the living room to the kitchen repeatedly for the first hour of the day. Fortunately, Big Man is prematurely turning into Kevin the teenager. He has to be dragged from his pit grunting most mornings and doesn’t speak until he’s had a good half hour to come round. He’s my kind of guy!