Ahhhh, Mornings.

This morning, like many mornings, began with the sound of smallish feet thumping down the stairs.

Actually, back up.  The first time the morning started, it ended shortly thereafter with a pillow being chucked at an annoying cat.  Fortunately, Kramer got the message that 6am was not an appropriate time to caterwaul for food and shut up after that.  Ahhhh...another half hour of blissful sleep.

So, the second time the morning began, I awoke to the sound of feet pounding down the stairs.  (Note:  Neither J nor I sets an alarm any more.  No reason to do that - the kiddos are unfailing in their wakeup calls.) 

B got downstairs first, and crawled in bed to snuggle.  It was his turn, after all.  When I asked him if he slept well, he said "yeah, really well!  Except I didn't get to finish a good dream 'cause my alarm went off."  I have to agree, that does kind of suck.  When I asked him what the dream was about, he said he couldn't remember because of the alarm.

So we snuggled for a few minutes, and I started composing a post in my head about how awesome it is to start the day snuggling with a kiddo.  I was thinking about enjoying the quiet moments before the day gets insane, appreciating how fast time is moving and wondering how many times I have left that a kiddo will come straight downstairs to snuggle with me.  I was feeling quite sentimental.

And then the girl came down the stairs.

And then everything went to hell.

Sigh.  Why is it that an almost 5-year-old, who has been taking turns nearly her whole damn life, can so easily forget how the concept of "taking turns" works?  I didn't end up kicking anyone off the bed this time, which I suppose was a win for me.  But J did end up carrying the girl up the stairs for time out in her room; she was screaming and kicking the whole time.  He might have been a bit more sympathetic if she hadn't been so damned adamant about absolutely not wanting to snuggle with or even next to daddy, "only mommy." 

That sentimental mood I referenced above?  The kind that doesn't hit me very often?  Vanished as fast as B's dream when his alarm went off. 

And instead of a post about warm fuzzies, you get a post about a morning that started with tears, snot, and screaming.  And the damn cat waking us up at 6am.  Which is better than the 4:30am schedule he's been on since we got back from vacation.

Welcome friggin' home.