Awhile back, when the kids were religiously waking at 5am (instead of the glorious 5:58am trend we've been on for a bit now), here's how a conversation went down between me and Max around 11:15am one morning.
I was loading the kids into the car for a quick grocery trip to Costco. We had done countless things that morning. I guess not countless - it was probably close to an even hundred between making breakfast and eating breakfast and the forts and music and park playtime and eating the second breakfast and walking around the block and doing art and eating yet a third breakfast and picking up toys so that we could get to Costco and come home to a tidy house just in time to tuck all three into their beds for n.a.p.t.i.m.e!
As I'm buckling Max into his carseat he looks at me and asks "Mom, is it still morning?"
I simply say "Yep, it is" because I've realized that the simpler the answer, the better most times. But, ooooh, the thoughts his comment sparked and the things I could have said!
And then, in one sentence, Max summed up my numerous unspoken words with "Mom, why are mornings sooooooo loooooong?"
To which I wanted to - and think I did - respond, "because we've put in nearly 8 hours before Noon!"
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