Grace is smart, and Grace is an early riser. This is a bad combination, especially when the family co-sleeps, and I like to linger a while in Snooze mode.
Apparently, Grace woke up before me this morning, and she sat in the darkness examining my face.
“EYE, MOMMY!” She said, half a second before she stabbed me in the eye with her toddler-sized fingernail.
“Yes, Grace, that’s Momma’s eye. You’re so smart!” I gurgled in my sleep.
“EYE, MOMMY!” She stabbed the other one. I wasn’t sure whether my husband had turned the light on or if it was the toddler-sized stars I was now seeing.
“Yes, Gracie. Momma has two eyes.” I considered rolling over, but I knew she’d just pull my hair, so I stayed.
“NOH, MOMMY!” She smooshed my nose down onto my face. For the first time this morning, I was thankful: at least her finger was not inside my nostril, on its way to my brain.
Don’t laugh. I know what her fingernails feel like when jammed up into the depths of my sinuses. It’s painful.
“NOH!” She repeated.
“Yes, Grace. Momma’s nose.”
“MOMMY! MOW!” She was getting more and more excited, and I knew my slumber was finished for this day. “MOW!” I was now happier than ever that her finger had been atop my nose, as it was now resting on my tongue.
“Yes, Momma’s mouth, Gracie.”
This went on for a few minutes, until I got out of the bed.
I love that Grace’s language is progressing from understanding to action, but I’d like my anatomy lesson better if it took place in the daylight.
© 2008, Tara Ziegmont. All rights reserved.