Morning

8am. I wake up to Gwen's smiling face next to mine, as she's been in bed with me since 4:30am. Her attitude in the morning assures me that if she could talk, she'd be saying "You're here again? This is going to be AWESOME!"

"Good morning," I say. "Did you have a good sleep?" She grins even more madly at the sound of my voice. She is so giddy she can hardly bear the excitement, and turns away shyly as if to hide her glee.

"Blurgh!" she answers enthusiastically, and receives a dozen or so kisses on her chubby, edible cheeks. We snuggle for a bit while she tells me of her night: "ah ah ahhhh." I'm glad to hear it.

Then, abruptly, she turns away from me and begins blowing raspberries at the ceiling, with urgent purpose, as if to say "Nice to see you, Mom, but I've got to get to work now. These raspberries ain't gonna blow themselves, y'know, and I've got a quota to meet." Brow furrowed in concentration. Phhhllllbbt. Phhhllllbbt. Phhhhhhhllllllllbbbbbttttt.

I like mornings.