Mornings

Sneaking around in the early morning still. Dark and cold outside, and the floor chilly on MY feet, and I hear the pitter-patter of Lola's. She's supposed to be asleep, but somehow hears me every time.
It's labor day. We wanted to sleep-in but something woke me. Now Lola's smiling at me over Frosted Mini-wheats and echoing my half-hearted chide "You woke up too early!" It's way too cute for 7 o'clock in the morning but what would I rather be waking up to? Angelic little smile full of mischief, and tiny voice to match.
She's making quick work of the Minnie-wheats, so I could be in trouble shortly.
Every time she takes a bite her hair falls into her eyes and I push it back stubbornly. Every time she smiles at me. In spite of being tired and cold, this is the best thing that could possibly have happened to me.
Everything is quiet and Lola and I are chatting. (She's 2.)
She's noticed her chapstick, so the obligatory primping occurs and I wonder at her facsination with all things cosmetic at such an early age. She's been our girlie-girl ever since she was tiny (she still is.) She's been enthralled by makeup, dress-up, and SHOES since birth as far as we can tell. (laughing)
Apparently we've made enough of a stir to bother the old mutt, Austin. I can hear him through the ceiling, moving from one side of the master bed to the other, and flopping back down on the floor. Over the last year or so he's developed the old man's grunt/groan habit. While hilarious, it makes me wonder if he's really uncomfortable, or mimicking me; maybe commenting on my frequent loud protests to movement. Every so often (more often now than not I'm afraid) we're treated to a barrage of grunts, groans, moans, and sighs that would make any rest-home proud.
He trundles and trudges about like some comic old fart, but he's so polite and good-natured that he wags his tail and smiles the whole time.

Ah, the second shift has awakened. Sort of. I can hear Emily puttering around, and I've called to her a couple of times. (No reply.) I even poured her bowl of cereal, which will begin to disintegrate shortly, but I know her routine well enough. I'll have to go looking for her so off I go.
As I top the stairs, I see her wrapped in her favorite blanket and crouched at the foot of our door. She is unhappy with the ambient temperature (sans pajama pants, she's cold) and she's decided I'd better do something about it.
I mention pants and cereal and she's down the stairs. I fumble loudly and clumsily through the closet only to find I'm looking in the wrong place and woefully un-stealthy. The pull-up bar crashes to the floor (almost taking my head with it,) and Beth sits upright in bed to stare at me incredulously.

Mumbled apologies and a hasty retreat.

Emily's found her bowl of cereal and is chowing Minnie-wheats at an impressive rate for anyone so small. She's smiling hugely at me. These are the moments, but I am still wanting to be back in my nice warm bed and I MAY still be able to salvage some sleep, so after tucking Lola into bed with a book I high-tail it. Then I realize I've left Emily alone at the table. "She's four you worthless bum! What the heck is wrong with you?" (Damned conscience!)

I realize I couldn't ask for more as mornings go, so I rush back down to sit with her. Why had I gone upstairs again? Oh yea, because I'm getting lazier every minute!
Beth has joined us with a jaunty smile of her own and soon Lola is back and we're a big happy (sleepy) family sitting at the kitchen table. What a perfect morning!