Everybody Knows About Mama and Her Coffee

Occasionally my wonderful husband will let me sleep a little late, and will go downstairs with Zane so I have some quiet. He does this sometimes when he knows that I’ve had trouble sleeping, and other times he does this to be nice. I'll take it either way.

This morning I was still in bed, sound asleep, only to be awakened by the sound of Zane stomping up the stairs.

“Mama, wake up!” he yelled. I rolled over bleary-eyed, mumbling and grumbling, because I could have used another hour or three of blessed sleep. I am not ever to be confused with a morning person.

“Mama, wake up! Time to get up!” Zane gets as close as he can to my face to tell me this.

I mumble some more, slowly, trying to motivate myself to get up. I even make a halfhearted attempt to push myself to a sitting position.

Did I mention that I am not a morning person? Because if I didn't mention that, I can say it again. I even have a t-shirt that says I'm not a morning person stashed away somewhere. I just wake up cranky.

I hear Zane running toward the stairs. My heart speeds up at the thought of him falling down the stairs, which certainly helps with the waking up. But the boy stops just at the top of the stairs.

“Daddy!” he calls. “Mama needs coffee!”

What can I say? He was right.