The last few days the baby has been waking up at 7:30 which wouldn’t be a problem, except with lazy vacation mornings stretched out ahead of me 7:30 is feeling like the crack of dawn. But I know Lucy comes at 7 am every morning and I can her her washing dishes downstairs so I stumble downstairs bleary-eyed and pass off my chirping baby into her outstretched arms.
As I head back upstairs to tuck myself in for an extended slumber, I hear them chatting away, “Say ‘Thank You’ baby.” “Tan Q.” “Say ‘Please’ my baby.” “Peas.”
Ah, bliss.