8.25.11

This morning when I woke up (at 6, as I am anticipating the start of the school year already), it was quite dark. The news threatened rain.


I spent a few moments lying there, remembering this spectacular summer. 


Greg was off to work. The rain started its thing; I could hear it on the skylights. Will started to stir. Coffee and Matt and Ann would have to wait.


I walked into Will's room, our last leisurely morning. There will be weekends and holidays, sure. But nothing quite like these early hours of the summer, just the two of us. After all, next year there will be a wee one who will be getting us up earlier than this.


He was all snuggled into his bed. I didn't believe that he'd be the kid who waits for us to come get him, but old crib habits die hard, I suppose. 


I sat down on the end of his bed and then crawled up next to him. I asked for my good morning hug, which I received with open arms. He had his dear Blue Bear kiss me on the nose. Then he asked for Dada.


Our conversation went like this.


Will: Dada?
Me: Daddy's at work already.
Will: Barbie's? 
Me: No, no Barbie's house today, but you get to go to Miss Jen's house tomorrow! You'll paint, and play, and have so much fun again!
Will: Why? 


I pause. The tears come, as they so often do these days.


Me: Because mommy has to go back to work.
Will: No mama.


He wraps his arms around me tight. 


Will: Cuddle?


Cuddling in our house means we pile into Mom and Dad's bed with blankets, stuffed animals, snacks, and Sesame Street.


With the rain coming a bit harder, we scampered into my room and spent our last summer morning with primary colored monsters singing songs about the number eight. 


Although I'm not sure how lucky it is, eight is great, you know. And so was this summer.