5 a.m. is not my idea of a good beginning. For anything. Except maybe getting up to drive to the airport for a fun trip to...well anywhere. (Top picks today? Madrid, Paris, Vancouver, Seattle, a cabin in a great old green forest) But 5 a.m. to wake up to a crying crabby toddler? Ugh. The biggest problem is that he's as much a morning person as I am. He's almost exactly like me. In the way that we hate the actual Waking Up but once we're up....well, we're up and ready to go. I'm old, though. (hahahaha) Ok. I'm pregnant and TIIIIIIIIRED. There are morning I wake up and feel like I could sleep for a few more weeks. And I feel like crying. And stuffing my head in the pillow and pretending I've suffered a stroke or coma just to get a few more minutes. Sigh.
But. Once we're up...We're UP! And we make breakfast together and laugh together at cracking eggs and eat together and then D signs that he's all done and he runs around playing with the cupboards in the kitchen or the small chalkboard near the table. I love watching him move his small plastic stool around the kitchen just so he can reach the drawer with all the spoons and whisks. And when we're done he pulls his stool over to the dishwasher and helps me put in (the unbreakable) dishes and cups. So it's not all bad. It's nice, actually. Once I get over the whole waking up bit.