All was quiet. Outside was still pitch black, but I had a soft pool of light from the lamp beside the couch. I am always very, very quiet when I get up because my early risers hop out of bed at the first sound of stirring. Then the quiet hour that I sacrificed my sleep for is gone and we are launched into the day. The early risers are the hungry ones. They seem to have this connection from their stomachs to their brains the instant their feet hit the floor. For myself, a fried egg before 9 o’clock has always been kind of gross. I just know God enjoyed the joke when he gave me these children who rise and shine so effortlessly.
This morning the kitchen floor squeaked and maybe I banged the tea kettle a little when I started water a-boiling for my tea. I soon heard stealthy creeping and a small face appeared in the doorway, poised to head back to bed because sometimes I instruct her to go back to sleep! Right behind her the smallest, loudest child peeked out and I sighed. If I send that one back to bed, everybody will be up in minutes.
“You can bring your blankets and snuggle with me, girls, if you hold very still and do not mention breakfast.” They scampered over and wiggled like excited puppies arranging nests. Oh well. Never mind the quiet hour. We will snuggle and visit. They had things on their minds. Dreams, very odd dreams that the small one makes up as she goes. “I saw a dinosaur that got unplugged from its wires that God put in it.” Oh.
From her blanket cocoon, Olivia changed the subject, “Mama, I think other people will die before you do.”
“Really? Don’t you want me to die?” I asked the rhetorical question. I expected her to say that she wouldn’t like if nobody was there to make her breakfast or read her stories, or some such childhood reason.
“NO! I do NOT! I would be so….” She paused, groping for the right word. “BORED!”
Well. That is good to know.