This morning, Princess woke at 6am with a sore tummy. I brought her into my bed and tried all of my usual tricks to get her back to sleep.
Just one more hour please.
Usually, she snuggles up to me, plants a pudgy wee hand flat on my cheek and sighs. It’s quite adorable.
This morning she was searching frantically through closed eyes for the teat of the bottle that I obviously should have had in her mouth ten minutes earlier. Her arms were flailing and she was grunting like a little pig at the swill bucket.
I swear, it was as if she hadn’t been fed in 3 days.
She’s funny when she decides she’s hungry. Feed me NOW. (She’s like her mother I suppose!)
And so, for the first time in a few weeks, I find myself up and coffeefied before 6.30am.
I got herself settled and she’s currently snoring in the corner.
I was thinking about going back to bed, but then I looked out the window and realised that I haven’t seen the sunrise in a long time.
I’ve always been a morning person.
I’m the person that those “If you see someone smiling before 7am, slap them!” mugs, are about.
I’ve always loved the calm and the quiet of day break, when you can breathe in the nothingness before the world awakens.
And so, I put on my warmest coat and sat on the back doorstep; coffee and huge dog cuddles keeping me warm.
And I watched.
And I listened.
The countryside at stupid o’clock is eerily quiet. It’s gorgeous.
And while I knew that this calm would not last; because my little Tasmanian Devil would be waking up to take on the world in approximately ten minutes; I took it all in and enjoyed it.
My backside was freezing by the time I heard her footsteps coming up the hall, but my head was calm and my heart was all warm and fuzzy.
I was ready for the day ahead.
I would have loved an extra hour in bed, obviously,
but sometimes it does not harm to be
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