It’s like a ticking time bomb, trying to get something written here every morning before my children wake up.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Once they’re awake, my morning is a haze of breakfasts and snuggles needed, of meltdowns and NO NOT THAT BLANKET, THE OTHER ONE. And WHERE IS MY DINOSAUR and I NEED DA ODDER CEREAL.
It’s all good fun, until someone starts screaming and writhing on the floor.
***
My son wakes up, demands warm milk and a blanket (da blue one, in da bedroom Mummy, not DAT ONE) and smiles at me cheekily while he does it. I rub his stomach and hug him good morning, until he breathes on me and I gag.
That’s the part no one talks about – the morning breath, that on your husband is expected, but on your almost-three-year-old is a disgusting shock.
***
It’s Monday, the start of our week again and I have so many things happening that I am alternately terrified and very excited. Good things will happen this week, I can feel it.
Just as long as I can keep up, it will be all good.
The morning breath Zack has is just… URGH!
I’m glad it’s monday soon. Back to the normal routine! 🙂
hoping for good things for you this week. I both love and hate Mondays. Hate that i am alone with the three kids all day but love the return to routine.
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