Morning

Our mornings go fast on most weekdays. But sometimes we linger into them. We cuddle longer and today my daughter managed to make me giggle more than once before 8 a.m.

The first time was the sleepy moment when I felt my daughter stir as she lay next to me. It was still early and dark and quiet and her frantic movement told me she was having a nightmare. 

In a torrid moment of panic, eyes closed tight, I heard my daughter yell out in her sleep,

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

She then settled back into the duvet and peacefully continued in her slumber.

Though I was half-asleep, I couldn't help but quietly shake as I attempted to hold back the laughter. No one loves the "Happy Birthday Today" song as much as my daughter does.

A couple hours later as we approached our usual "get up, get moving" hour she woke quickly, didn't see me hiding from the sun under the covers and immediately started yelling for me.

When I whispered her name she stumbled as she stood to search for me and this is the bed head that warmed my heart and made me fearful all at the same time: I had quite a combing session to get through.

As "No Woman, No Cry" played in my head while examining her dreadlocks I grabbed my camera in time to take these snaps and let her give me butterfly kisses and plant several smackers on my lips while professing: "I lub you mama" without any provocation.

These are the mornings I cherish.