Ever since the pandemic started, the set morning routine has been thrown away entirely and replaced with the slipshod one we have now. A fun (said sarcastically) little thing has been happening every single morning that had not ever occurred in the nigh on twenty years I have been a parent.
Sometimes it is a little before dawn, other times it is just after midnight, but without fail, for the last three or four weeks, my little guy will make his way upstairs and sleep in bed with me for the final few hours I am upstairs. Now, all things being equal, I don’t care that he does this, though, there is a downside I had not thought of until this morning.
See, when my brain decides I am awake for the day, I cannot lie in bed anymore. My back starts to hurt, and my mind finds things I need to go and do. Writing is a big one, of course, calls of nature, the ever-popular search for the magic bean water, you know, morning things.
This morning, this is before six, my wired brain had made its pronouncements. I was getting ready to rise from my opulent and frozen bed-throne and descend to mingle with the wee folk downstairs when a hand reached out like that scene at the end of the original Carrie and yanked my beard with such ferocity I thought that the end was nigh for a moment.
No, no, the end was not nigh.
What was occurring was that my sweet and wonderful Babeh Duck, the apple of my eye, was looking at me with determination one sees in professional athletes. Willing me, willing me, I say, to lay my fat ass back down so he could get a few more minutes of shut-eye before we went down and fought the battles of the day.
Yes, my enfant terrible made me lie back down and forced me to stare at the ceiling for a good twenty minutes while he finished the fight he was obviously in the middle of as he lay there. Unless he always kicks and punches like that when he is dead to the world that is. When he finally did crack open his eyes, his brilliant baby blues flashing up at me with that innocence and wonder he seems to have. He smiled for a few seconds and then proceeded to bounce, literally and 90’s slang word, out of my bed and make his way downstairs, knowing I would follow like the good little lap-dad that I am.
So while I was going to sit and talk about the positive psychological stimulations writing multiple times a day gets me. I decided that I needed to write what I believe in high school was called a Current Events piece for your perusal and see if you are laughing as much by the end of it as I am sitting here with my coffee in my left hand, my fingers absently stabbing at the keys with my right hand.
Today I will indeed write about psychological benefits and maybe go back to The Alley. I am in a mood, so I really can’t promise what won’t come out of my had, I can only hope you will be mildly informed and decently amused by it should it fall within your comfort zone.
I love all of you, even if we have never met or have met just a few times. I love you because you deserve to be loved, and you deserve to be held high and admired for your wonder, splendor, and the joy you have to bring to the world.
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