Lola Mornings

bleary, a thought rushes across the back of my eyelids only to fail its purpose utterly.  still asleep...a small, incredibly perky voice is asking me if I want to wake up now, which, after laborious consideration strikes me as a terrible idea.
God she's cute though.
After climbing up next to me, she pats my head and curls up under the covers for exactly 23 seconds.  Apparently I need to get up and make her cereal.  I groan and she puts her feet on me (to get more leverage?) underscoring the obvious, and prompting another groan (her feet are cold!)
as consciousness slowly floods in, I can't help but wonder irrationally, why I have to get up.
I could totally take her, she's only 3.  I outweigh her by a buck fifty easy!  I could just say "No," after all it's still dark outside.  People don't even know it's morning yet...!  Nothing could defeat this logic!
Yea, Did I mention she's 3?  I'm getting up and I know it's an inevitable.
She gathers her thoughts for a second, (I can tell because she does that little lip-smacking noise that people do before they're about to say something important) and I have no idea where she's gotten that mannerism but it tickles me.  I stifle a laugh which is the beginning of the end.  Point-Lola.  "Daddy don't you want to get up now?"
You can't argue with a 3 year old, especially when they know you're no longer serious.
As I drag myself out of bed I'm plotting a return to the covers that will never happen.
She's happily going on about Kix, and whether we'll go swimming or not, and barbies and Scooby-doo and I'm debating starting the cartoon train for a chance to crawl back into bed.
But you know, what do we always say when it's waay too late at night and nobody feels like going home?  I'll sleep when I'm dead!  Me and Lola, we've got things to do!