Portrait of a Morning

Little sleep was had by anyone in our home. Ezra moved into our bed after nightmares woke him around midnight. I adore sleeping with my child...in theory. I love having him close, hearing him dream, and waking up slowly to that precious face smiling back at me. I do not love the neck kicks, back punches, and general crampedness that actually comes from sleeping with Ezra at this age. It's lovely and simultaneously a total pain in the ass.

So yes, no sleep last night. With a healthy amount of toddler battery doled out, Kellen and I woke up grumpy and tired. Nana! (banana) Juice! Nana! Fast! (breakfast) came a little too early and two inches from our ears.

Let's try to rest some more I pleaded.  

How about a snuggle? Kellen asked to no avail.

Go get a book and we'll read it in bed I suggested as a last ditch effort to parent with as little physical movement as possible.

Ezra leaps off the bed and immediately sets up his potty as a step-stool to reach our books (not the dozens of toddler friendly books that live on the bottom shelves in our bedroom). He comes back with a book on the life and art of Picasso. We start flipping through the pages, looking at the art, and describing what we see. Ezra likes the blue period. He is laughing as we turn each page. And then we turn to Portrait of Pedro Manach and he wails DADA! and we all just lose it with laughter. Lose it. It was so sweet and silly and perfect.

MAYBE KELLEN SHOULD GO FULL ON MUSTACHEOED?

 Sometimes you're tired and grumpy and your child says the perfect thing and you all laugh and forget about the neck kicks and back punches.

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