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Spider Fingers


The Mischievite has this habit of waking me up by stroking my face with his tiny little fingers. As sweet as that sounds what it really means is that I wake up nearly every morning to the feeling of spiders crawling across my face.

I know I ought to feel this glowing love for my little boy who gently wakes me every morning, but, I'm telling you, it's one of the most annoying feelings out there. Possibly not annoying if I had time to prep myself for it, except when I'm sunk into my subconscious there is nothing aware enough within me to prepare.

So, 9 times out of 10 he ends up with me swatting his hand away and snarling "Stop it!"

I'd say poor boy, but I think it's all part of his master plan. He knows it wakes me up so he's willing to take the snarl in order to get me up. Maybe it's a little game. He does get his little giggle face going on when I do open my eyes.

His giggle look is the thing photos are made of. He scrunches his shoulders up against his cheeks and presses his fingers to his bright smile while his eyes dance and twinkle above it all. Very cute on a 4 year old... well, usually but maybe not at 7AM.

At least he doesn't climb on top of me and pry my eyelids open. I should be grateful for that at least.

Comments

mandi said…
I wouldn't be able to handle that... Though I have had the pry the eyelids open happen to me a few times. Total morning killer.
Cari Hislop said…
This proves what a great parent you are!

I once had a roommate (not your sister) who thought it would be funny to wake me by lightly touching my face. It was the most freaky thing; it felt like being pulled up to the surface from a comfortable warm depth. I was not amused. She never did that again.

Have you ever read The Five Love Languages? It could be your Mischevite's love language is touch!

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Mutterings of a Middle-Aged Dreamer

Use your words, my dear sweet soul, they are inside of you... So find them. Write, you silly girl, write so hard the world will never forget you.
But does it matter if the world remembers you? 
Age begins to press its hands upon your chest and the need to be remembered seems to increase with the pressure. 
Stop.
That's not a line of thought you're interested in pursuing. 
Live in the now.
Does it matter if the world remembers you if your neighbor is going hungry? 
Perhaps age is merely pushing you out the door. 
Go. Live in the now.