My eyeballs have been stolen in the night and replaced with marbles. Marbles made of lead. Leaden marbles attached to my brain through my eye sockets by weighty anchors.
Acacia is grumbling in her cot. But when she sees me enter the room she immediately launches herself into full-on charm offensive. So much so that I check to see if a unicorn, floating on a rainbow, covered in marshmallows is directly behind me. No, it is just me. She grins and coos. Despite eyeballs, can't help but grin and coo back. Dang, this kid is good.
Honour is awake too and whining in her cot. When she sees me enter the room she launches herself into a full-on performance. Acacia thinks this is even more delightful than the sight of my grumpy face first thing in the morning. She giggles.
Meanwhile my Friday-morning-brain tries to interpret performance. Honour is pretending to be a cat? Or a baby? Or an aubergine? Now she's hiding under her blanket and mewing. Just as my brain registers this..."Good morning sweetheart....are you a cat?". She leaps up and launches into 'Where's Acacia? Acacia crying? Acacia laughing? Where is wind? Wind hurts my ear. Got wind in my ear. Ow my tummy. NO! NO! Leave blanket! Going to nurswery? Not hungry. Read a book? Want blanket off. WANT BLANKET OFF. Where's Daddy? Gone to wuuuurk?"
Not sure I have enough neurons to keep up with this conversation. I'm still lagging behind in the part about the wind in her ear...but she's moved on to which top she wants to wear to nurswery. Bite lip to prevent self snapping at her to 'please put your knickers on now'.
From somewhere deep beneath the layers of grump, my better self reminds me SHE is being utterly delightful and I am a grumpy old croc that should crawl back into bed, pull the covers over my head and go back to sleep until I can be as pleasant in the mornings as my children.
That should be sometime around 2012.