I hear the sound of his feet hit the floor and then the sounds of him in his bathroom. He tries to creep quietly down the hallway into our room. He does this most weekend mornings.
Despite the hour, I smile to myself.
7: 00 AM
Even though I’ve told him multiple times that he doesn’t have to tell me that he’s going downstairs on a weekend morning to watch cartoons, he still stops and our room to inform us. Or rather me.
While he daddy sleeps on. Or pretends to. *side eye*
I’ve drifted back off to sleep but he’s back. And I know this because I can feel hot little boy breath on my face. And through the little bit of light leaking in our room from the bathroom, I can see the outline of him standing right above me.
Him: Mama, I’m hungry.
Me: Give me 5 more minutes baby.
Him: It’s been 10 minutes Mama, I’m still hungry.
Me: Get some yogurt.
Me: I’m coming!! *burrows down deeper into the warm covers*
He’s standing over me again……
Me: Ok, Ok, I’m coming.
He waits this time. Not trusting me.
And I get up to fix eggs.
Cause that’s motherhood on a weekend in these parts.
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