The Things That Start My Day...

This is a typical morning at our house. Thing 2 starts having incredibly loud, grunt inducing gas about an hour before any living thing should be awake (5:00 am).  Thing 1 leaps onto the middle of the bed and start spinning in circles like a hyper house cat. At her arrival Thing 2’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 2 nursing, Thing 1 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 2 from her sister’s well intentioned but possibly fatal advances. At my denial, Thing 1’s lower lip begins a truly impressive quiver and huge tears well up in a precursor to full out hysterics. This is when I stumble to the kitchen for the life-saving-first-sippy-cup-of-apple-juice-in-the-morning and drops it in front of Thing 1. She 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 of the action, Thing 2 has an explosive case of diarrhea. I fantasizing about staying in bed - while searching for the new diapers under the clean laundry piled next to the bed and trying to untangle my feet from the three baby blankets that have somehow come to life and attacked - but deep down I  know, once Thing 1 has awoken Thing 2, there is no more sleep for mommy. Not until that magical day when Thing 2 no longer wants to “nurse on booby”  and Thing 1 can get her own damn juice. Oh magical day. You are my own personal unicorn.