Most mornings I consider myself lucky. This is because it's usually Cheryl who gets out of bed to deal with The Boy -change him, feed him, and so on- while I get to sleep longer.
The mornings that I feel most lucky are the days that Cheryl sneaks back into bed and sits the little fella on the covers between the two of us. D doesn't always realize that I'm actually right there, depending on which way I'm facing and whether or not I've moved, but as soon as he catches on he starts waving his arms, rocking his tiny pelvis, and smiling from one king-sized corner to the next. Then he clambers at me, looking for something to grab, whack, or pull until he knows that I'm awake.
Dad
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