Sunday, August 14, 2011

Sunday Mornings

The sun has still not woken up but two tiny creatures have. A creak of the bedroom door. Hushed whispers. Four little feet tiptoeing into the room, crawling into our beds and under our blankets. Warm snuggles. Kisses and cuddles. Pyjamas that still smell of milk and cream; of sleep and a just finished sweet dream. Eyes that are full of wonder and the excitement of what the day ahead has in store. A little pinch, a tiny tug. Squabbling over who has most of the "blankie" and who gets to sleep closest to mummy. Earnest stories of what they dreamed about - a jungle gym, a slide, an alien, a blue headed monster, a talking rabbit. Tiny giggles that work their way up to peals of uncontrollable laughter. "I love you"s aplenty. And just when I'm wishing this could go on forever, off they go with Daddy whom they've convinced to make crumpets for breakfast.

Sunday mornings are silly. Sunday mornings are sweet. Sunday mornings are special in the most splendid, sunshine-y sort of way.