Good morning. I think.

If you are not a morning person, then likely you find people who wake up happy and alert to be rather, well, annoying. I am not a morning person, but God entrusted one into my care and her name is Emma. Her internal clock of radiant sunshine wakes her before dawn and she can be heard singing from her room as she prepares to get up and go the bathroom. Sometimes she goes back to bed to read a books while waiting for the rest of the household to get up and sometimes she wanders the house looking for excitement. A few mornings ago we went downstairs to find that she had made a bed next to the wood stove in the living room. She was happily cozied up looking at books and singing a happy tune even before the sun was up. All her cheerful ruckus wakes up Grumpy, I mean Mandy, and so our day begins.

Her sister, a girl after my own heart, is slow to be happy in the morning. Mandy needs a good 15 minutes of snuggling with mom or dad (or any handy adult) before she is willing to greet the day. And even then she just lifts her head up to see what her cheerful sister is up to and then she says, "Hi." She plops her head back down onto whoever is giving her love and sucks her thumb and strokes her incredibly stinky blanket. If it wasn't for that stinky thing, I could probably charge admission and people would pay money for Mandy's hugs. She doesn't really care who she is snuggling up with and it feels like world peace when she has her arms flung around your neck. Maybe a true morning person wouldn't appreciate all her needed snuggling when there is a day wasting away, but I need that time just as much as Mandy.

(Although she is by far the more outgoing one of our children, Mandy takes a lot of time to warm up in the morning)

This brings me to yesterday when the kind daddy had gone downstairs to get the crying Mandy from her crib. He was undoubtedly snuggling up with our snuggly child in her warm room in the comfy chair. He was feeling world peace envelop him and that left me with the ray of sunshine who burst into my curtain darkened haven and said, "Good morning!" as she turned on the light. I grumbled something about it being far too early and she jumped and hopped up onto the bed next to me. She said, "Come-on. Let's get up" and, "You can do it!"  I replied something about let's just sleep awhile, not that that was even remotely possible with a ray of sunshine hopping about on my pillow. Emma said, "Come-on. My tummy said, 'I'm hungry.'" She finally cajoled me into sitting up and then she took my hand and pulled until I was standing by my bed. She continued to pull me, intending to sweep me down the stairs to prepare breakfast for her, I am sure. I stopped her and said that I needed to quickly make the bed. I took 20 seconds to tidy up the sheets and duvet. If I don't make the bed first thing in the morning, I will likely crawl back into it when no one is looking (let's not talk about the Proverbs Woman right now). Emma, all the while, was chattering on about how she wanted oatmeal, the pink kind, and how Mandy was up already and look, there's the sun! As I completed the task, she whipped up a huge smile and exclaimed, "That's a girl, Mommy. You did a good job!" I suddenly felt just a little encouraged, less grumpy, and ready to start the day. And I did start the day, whether I wanted to or not. 

Oh, those dear morning people. You have to love them, because the alternative isn't possible while they are around.