Every morning Noah sneaks into our bed. Well, he thinks he's sneaking, though of course we're usually awake by the time he's noisily swung open his bedroom door, padded into the bathroom and made a terrific racket with his stool and potty seat and cheerful morning greetings to the monkeys on the shower curtain, wandered down the hall while clutching his latest Lego creation, shedding and retrieving blocks along the way...but then he arrives at our bedside and holds his breath and caaaaarefully and quiiiiiiietly climbs and over us, jabbing us with elbows and knees while he caaaaaaaaaaaaaarefully and quiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiietly takes his place under the covers between us. "I love you too," he murmurs, even before we've said anything.
Jason gets up first while Noah and I stay in bed for as many extra minutes as I dare, nuzzling and snuggling until his feet are no longer icicles against my shins. I cannot think of a better way to start the day, although would it kill him to go downstairs and brew me some coffee first? I mean, really.
This morning was no different. He crept in and coaxed some big bear hugs from a still barely awake Daddy, then rolled over to my side once Jason got up. He was a bit extra talkative, saying something something about his friend? His friend liking a parrot? I assumed he was talking about his Lego people, who are all currently kept inside his recreation of the house from Up, complete with sails and windows and an appropriately damaged foundation that is SUPPOSED to be like that, did you not see the movie? God.
He sort-of half-laid on my head, so I could just see over his shoulder when I finally opened my eyes and squinted against the brightness...and the giant-ass stink bug sitting contentedly on his shoulder, about two inches from my eyeballs.
An unholy sound came from my throat, probably something like GAAAAAMAHGAWDHUUUUUUUHHHHHHH, while I attempted to both scream and gasp at the same time, frantically and half-blindly swinging at the vile thing several times before making contact...sending it ass-over-ass-like-head...directly onto my child's face. Years of practice with these bugs (DO. NOT. CRUSH.) saved poor Noah a instinctive face-slap, since I knew, even in my half-asleep haze, that it needed to be flushed intact lest we bring about yet another onslaught of dozens. Plus, the guts really, really smell.
Grabbing a tissue, though, was beyond my problem-solving capacity at this point, and I only succeeded in violently flicking the bug off his face and into the vast unknown. Probably behind the bed, to be hunted with the ShopVac later.
But right then, I could do little more than collapse back on my pillow while Noah wailed about the loss of his PARROT, WHAT HAPPENED TO MY PARROT. I buried my face and shuddered and announced that it was high time to get out of bed.
When I went into the bathroom I realized I had an amputated stink bug leg stuck to my face.
Anyway! The end! That was my morning. I'm just sharing because I love you. Come give us a cuddle.