Probably

Each morning I get myself completely ready before going in to wake you. It's both my favorite and least favorite activity of the day. It's my least favorite because ... you abhor being woken up. It breaks my heart. You open one eye at a time, and holler, No Mama! Not done! No!! Lil' dude's bed! It's sad, and pathetic. It's also sweet.
Mornings are also my favorite because I get to see your shining little face again. You also love the cuddle in the mornings, so it's nice to wrap your warm, pajama'd body against mine as the sun rises. The house soon sounds like you, as you finally make the day your own.


I take off your pajamas and you go potty, wearing NaNa like a cape to ward off the morning chill. I wait by the sink with your toothbrush fully loaded. I comb your hair and make you presentable. You take your time brushing; a habit you inherited from your father. You can't wait to dump out your cup of water ... the endless watermarks on my mirror can attest to that.


You're dressed and you can usually catch a little Mickey Mouse Clubhouse before we leave. I warm up the vehicle, pack my lunch, throw my purse in the car, find something to thaw out for dinner. At this point in the mornings, you find something to bring with you. A book, some stickers. Goldfish snacks, a doll, NaNa, your tiny dollhouse family. It's as if you're packing up to begin your day just as I do.


Yesterday, we kissed Daddy and the Beagle goodbye. I asked you if you were ready to go, if you were ready to rock! like I do most mornings.

And you simply replied, probably.