My brother doesn’t do mornings.
Frankly neither do I. Or at least I wouldn’t if I didn’t have to in order to make a living in the real world. *sigh* Most mornings I would love to have a cup of tea delivered to me, wrap up in a blanket, sit on the porch, read a book (do my devotions?) and then go back to bed for another few hours.
I like sunrise. I just want more sleep in my life AFTER I watch the sunrise.
Unfortunately work doesn’t leave time for such luxuries.
And I think I’m rubbing off on Ginny. This morning, my normally sunshine-y, happy, thrilled-to-see-you baby girl who normally greets me with laughter and smiles just rolled over and tried to hide. She desperately wanted to go back to sleep. I had to work at it to wake her up for a diaper change and the ride to Grammy’s house. When I sang our morning song (This is the day that the Lord has made) to her she looked at me with a slightly offended expression and snuggled her head into my shoulder. Poor kid. I know exactly how she feels.
Of course I come by it naturally. My mom doesn’t get up well either. She requires at least an hour of sitting up in bed and drinking multiple cups of coffee before she is even remotely coherent. When I was in grade school my dad used to deliver her coffee and my hot chocolate to our bedsides every morning.
Yes. I know I was spoiled by that. When I finally lived alone I had to learn how to get up and make tea in the morning for myself and it was rough let me tell you.
My brother never got coffee, tea or hot chocolate delivered to his bedroom, but still, he doesnt’ wake up well either.
So I was quite a bit surprised to find him wandering down the stairs this morning (6:45 a.m.) when I arrived at my mom’s house to drop off Ginny. Of course he immediately informed me that he wasn’t REALLY up early…he was up LATE.
Ah that explains it. mystery solved.
Then he hung around the kitchen chatting with us while we rushed around trying to get everything done in record time. Nothing wrong with that. I like my brother. He is funny.
But he is also big and tall. And he moves slowly in the morning. Whether he was up early or late or whatever. and every where I tried to be – coffee pot, fridge, silverware drawer, microwave – Stephen was always in my way.
I kept having to ask him to move and eventually I just said “Stephen you have a gift of always being where I need to be!”
His response? “oh please don’t tell me that! That means I’m just like Daddy. You know I call him Visa.”
…….quizzical look from me……….
“He’s everywhere you want to be”
I nearly dropped my coffee cup I laughed so hard.