Morning have become a barometer by which I plan the rest of our day, not that I would let a bad wakeup ruin the next 16 hours or anything, but it does seem to set the tone for who is going to show up for snack time be that Danny Bonaduce or Jason Segel. Lately, and it's a curse (I KNOW) to even say this out loud, I have been more often than not marking one Mr. Honey Badger blissfully in absentia. This message will self-destruct in t-minus ten minutes so eat your chips and get out.
He beckoned me closer, peeking coyly over one shoulder from under his blanket. "Mama," he whispered, "You too, you too." and he patted the space in the bed behind him with one dimpled hand. I took a deep breath and crammed myself in beside him, because in two-point-seven-five years this has never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, happened. I held my breath and lowered my head down on his pillow, moving slowly so as though to not spook a skittish animal rarely spotted in the wild .
OH MY GOD WE ARE HAVING BED CUDDLEZ. NOBODY MOVE.
Just as I was attempting to control the gleeful party going on inside my head and live up every second of teh delicious cuddlez he yelled, "FIGHT THE SUN. I like puppies. I'm hungry peanutbutter. Let's go." sprang out of bed and ran out the door.
Whatever. It was cool while it lasted.