This weekend I had the pleasure of spending the day with possibly the world’s best (unless that’s yours) three-year old. And we had a sleepover for good measure. It’s been ten years since I’ve wrangled a toddler of my own and (crazy though it may be) I miss that energy in the house. We bunked together. But somehow I’d forgotten something.

How it is, exactly, that you can tuck a toddler into your bed against the wall, and by 4:00 am you’ve got a small person’s head boring into your ribs, all blankets off, with a leg thrown over you. While you’re grabbing the edge of your king-size mattress, doing a cliff hanger.

But the best part? I woke up to a radiant beauty throwing her arms around me and smiling inches from my face.

Get up, Jacquie. Get up! It’s mornin’ time.

(Buying time and thinking of an excuse.)

Oh, baby, I know. I’m OLD. I need to stretch …

(Not buying it at all, and sitting on my chest now.)

You’re not old. That’s SILLY. Stop stretching. I like pancakes! AND maple syrup. Do you have maple syrup? C’mon, Jacquie! I like cereal too. It’s mornin’ time, I SHOW YOU!

(Climbing across my chest. Opening-of-the-curtain-morning-in-the-eyes time.)

That’s a lot of morning, baby. Can you close the curtain, please?

Don’t you like mornin’? I like mornin’ AND pancakes.

Now, this is the same child, who when asked what we need to make cookies, replied:

Flour …. eggs … and grown-ups.

So she, and only she (oh perfect toddler-being) is the one person I can deny absolutely nothing. And so I let her fake-pull me out of bed. And down the stairs. And straight into breakfast-making. Before a cup of tea even touched my lips.

photos by: bliss {in images}