Olivia is very much a morning person. She can wake up at 5am and be chipper and happy that morning has come. She might go to sleep three hours past her usual bedtime and still wake up with the sun, happy and ready to annoy the crap out of her sister, who is decidedly NOT a morning person.
So imagine my surprise this past Monday morning when I went in to wake Olivia up at 6:20, a full half hour past when she usually wakes up on her own and she burst into tears before she was even fully awake.
Her face just crumpled as I pushed her hair back and told her it was time to get up. Tears streamed down her cheeks. I climbed into bed beside her and pulled her close.
“I know,” I soothed. “It’s so early and we had such a busy weekend. We’ll go to sleep earlier tonight,” I promised.
She sniffled and wiped her eyes and leaned into me. I kissed her head and rubbed her back.
A few seconds later, she was bounding over me and heading into the bathroom where I heard Alyssa tell her, “Don’t try to hog the heat this morning. I was here first!”
Yeah, Olivia got over her sadness that morning had come pretty quickly. But we did go to bed early that night, much to Alyssa’s disgust.
A mom, a dad and two daughters. We're living ordinary lives with a twist of 5p- (Cri du Chat) for spice. But we're about so much more than our younger daughter's genetic diagnosis.
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