The Other Mornings

At some wretched hour, Sarah decides that she is ready to get out of her crib. What is going on with her lately? I walk into her room and tell her that it is still dark so we should be sleeping.

She begins arguing with me, "It's just a little bit dark."

"No, it's still nighttime."

"It's just a little bit dark."

"We should be asleep."

"It's a little bit dark. Just a little bit dark."

"OK. Let's go to the couch."

"A little bit dark."

I arrange our blankets on the couch and turn on Sesame Street. (What did we do before TiVo? Talk to each other? Watch infomercials? Admire the sky at dawn?) Elmo's whining immediately puts me to sleep. I doze until I hear Sarah calling from a distance. Why isn't she on the couch with me? I squint and find her at the dining room table asking for breakfast. It's still dark, but I don't tell her. I don't want to argue. My mouth is sleepy.

I know I'm supposed to wake up and feed her, but instead, I mumble and fall asleep again. In a panic, I wake up 1, 16 or 99 minutes later. I'm not sure how long I was asleep! She's still sitting at the table waiting for breakfast. It's still dark.

There are no warm touching moments today. There's just one tired mama and a stubborn kid.