6:00-7:00 am “JUICE TIME!!”
This is a typical morning at our house. Thing Two starts having incredibly loud, grunt inducing gas about an hour before any living thing should be awake (5:00 am). Thing One leaps onto the middle of the bed and start spinning in circles like a hyper house cat. At her arrival Thing Two’s eyes pop open and her face crumples into the beginnings of “I don’t know what the hell just happened but I am damn sure not happy about it” screaming mode, so I scoop her up in a vain attempt to get her back to sleep.
Upon seeing Thing Two nursing, Thing One begins to dance and chant gleefully at the top of her lungs, “Nurse on Booby! Nurse on Booby! Baby Mia! Nurse on Booby! Touch’a Baby? Touch’a Babies EYES? Touch’a Booby? Please? PLEASE TOUCH’A DA BOOBY!” At which point I inform her that she cannot, in fact, touch my booby, all the while shielding Thing Two from her sister’s well intentioned but possibly fatal advances. At my denial, Thing One’s lower lip begins a truly impressive quiver and huge tears well up in a precursor to full out hysterics. This is when Daddy gives up, pulls his head out from under his pillow, stumbles to the kitchen for the life-saving-first-sippy-cup-of-apple-juice-in-the-morning and drops it in front of Thing One. Thing One shrieks “JUICE TIME!!”, pounces on it like a giddy pyro who has been handed a fire cracker, and catapults off the bed.
Obviously feeling left out, Thing Two has an explosive case of diarrhea. Daddy sleepily mutters that I should stay in bed while searching for the new diapers under the clean laundry piled next to the bed. I am trying to untangle my feet from the three baby blankets that have somehow come to life and attacked, while telling him that he should just go back to bed, I got it. But we both know, once Thing One has awoken Thing Two, there is no more sleep for mommy or daddy. Not until that magical day when Thing Two no longer wants to “nurse on booby.” Oh magical day. You are my own personal unicorn.