Mornings are our special time together, alone before the rest of the house awakens. I love sharing these dark and quiet moments with you, and worry about the day you’ll outgrow them.
You quite dramatically stretch and groan as you awaken: face scrunched up tight, arms reaching as far as they can, like you’ve just been released from a sleepy cocoon.
When your eyes first see me, you offer a humongous grin; it takes over your whole face and you squirm excitedly.
I pick you up and you melt into my neck, molding perfectly to my body. It’s the only time all day that you’re perfectly still, and it reminds me of when you were first born.
Your fuzzy PJs, your sweet morning grunts. You smell like pure joy and I soak you up.
You rub your eyes and start to peek up at the world, then nuzzle back into me, too sleepy to face the day just yet.
Eager for your bottle, you snort and huff, turning your face from side to side like you haven’t eaten in weeks.
We go through our routine. We talk and listen to music and get ready for the day. I’m exhausted but fulfilled, and I love you.