I savor our weekend mornings. There are rituals that Rich and I had long before we had Charlie that we easily moved him into. Rich rises early, usually before 7. He puts the coffee on, enjoys a quiet house, unloads the dishwasher, gets the TV fired up. By 8, Charlie and I are up. I'm usually 20 minutes or so ahead of Charlie, trudging out to the living room, glad the coffee is ready. Charlie then calls from his room "I'm awake! I had fun sleeping in my bed last night!" Even if this means he slept with us until 4 am and was carried into his own bed. He thinks he had a major bedtime breakthrough. (There aren't any of those going on around here. We are closeted co-sleepers. There, I confessed. Feels good.)
We all cram onto the couch, music videos on the TV. Eventually, Charlie wants to play with some sort of "i" device, the iPad being his favorite. But Rich's phone will do in a pinch.
Even Cook is all stretched out.
Charlie begins campaigning to drink our coffee. And makes this cute little shape with his lips . . . so we can't say no.
Yup, confession #2 in this post. Charlie takes sips of our coffee. And he's not picky, he'll take it black or with cream & sugar. This is why everyone should invest in coffee.
Eventually, the restlessness starts. Charlie starts showing us all of his injuries. His "bands" (band-aids) as they call him. I spend a fortune on character-based band-aids. And we stick them on him, even when there is no evidence of a boo boo.
Rich decides it's time for a shower. I'm ready to eat something or get going . . . wherever the weekend takes us.