I don’t do mornings. Especially early ones. No matter how beautiful and picturesque in there quiet solitude, we quite simply are not friends. I live for the night, a soul drawn to the moon and there are few things more sacred to me than sleep itself.
This morning however I found myself yanked from slumber at 4 am to collect my African man (MAM) from the airport. Did you hear me? 4 IN THE MORNING!! A time where only the souls stumbling in from the revels of the night before should be awake. Yet here i was in the cold at the airport.
Fast forward three hours and my children are completely enamored with our new house guest. Without request they were on their very best behavior. My son who refuses to get up most mornings and drags himself out the door declaring he hates school was up before the alarm went off, dressed and organised before I had even boiled the jug. My darling daughter not to be outdone, made every effort to make our guest feel welcome in our home.
All was going well until I had to forgo my morning coffee stop because MAM absolutely couldn’t leave the house without first ironing his trousers. He informs me of this in full knowledge that I am in fact running late. Hence a long slow sleepy and rather grumpy day ensued. If this carries on its going to be a very drawn out three weeks.
Oh the things we do for those we love….