Just another morning

I'm sound asleep snuggled under IKEA's best goosedown duvet. Ollie, our black and white cat, is stretched out on my pillow purring away and his warm presence in comforting. I drift off to continue my dream about Alan Rickman taking my chin in his hand and...suddenly something runs smack into me. Dimly I make out a little form clad in dino pajamas, grasping his favorite lurid green "blankee"in one hand, and an assortment of stuffed animals in the other - an exophthalmic fish with thick pink lips, "Dixie" the Welsh Corgi, and two small moose-heads wearing Christmas garb that are really egg cozies . He plops into bed beside me, and after much shuffling and re-arranging, cuddles next to me. Ollie is long gone, seeking his favorite spot on the floor that's nicely warmed by our "Fussbodenheitzung."

Patrick has just turned four; a fact he is very proud of. When someone asks him a question, no matter what it is, he shows them an outstretched hand with four fingers displayed and sys "I'm four. "

Anyhow, he falls back asleep. Me, on the other hand, stay wide awake as I know I will need to get up in around a half hour. When the time comes, I stealthily ease out of bed to begin getting ready. My husband Walter, does not possess the ability of stealth. When he walks across the floor he sounds as if he is wearing scuba flippers, and doesn't seem to notice when he opens and closes a safety gate with an enormous "clang"while he makes his way to the kitchen to rustle us up some coffee.

Around half-way through the shower, I hear some wailing. Uh, oh. I was afraid of this. While Patrick can sleep through pretty much anything, the safety gate sound triggers him awake. He opens the bathroom door crying - "No shower, no shower mommy! Put pajamas back on - I wanna snuggle." Clutching his assortment of toys, he moodily plops himself down on the (warm tile), and begins solemnly rubbing his upper lip with his "blankee", punctuating the activity with occasional grumblings over his lot in life. I get out of the shower - uh oh. Another mini tantrum. He begins to cry and express his displeasure by running in place and wailing "wanna watch you shave your legs!". This is a new fascination that is not always unwelcome as I appreciate being able to do the "extraordinary" grooming often not available when Patrick's around.

Oh man. Another Monday. Fortunately he's not always like this; often he'll be the one to wake me up by whispering in my ear "Mommy, stand up! Let's go make chocklit milk!" If I don't respond, he'll grab either side of my face with his pudgy hands and turn it towards his, and nose-to-nose, again whisper "mommy are you sleeping? I wanna make choklit milk and watch Thomas!. Momeeeeee!"

Resignedly, I stagger out of bed to carry out the Chocklit Milk Ritual. And woe onto those who attempt to deviate from it, or, heaven forbid, carry out one of the activities for him. Patrick takes out his Thomas sippy cup, scoops out a heaping spoonfull of Benco, and insists on pushing the microwave buttons. While it's warming, he seeks out his "favorite spoon" and proceeds to eat dry powder. Once the micro "dings" he opens it, allowing me to take the mug out. He's pretty good about pouring it himself, and then has to sign the Kindergarten song "Caffee reiben, Caffee reiben, zucker stossen..." Cute, but tends to put me on edge when in a hurry, which seems to be every morning.