gift of the magi

Rachel wanted to sleep in last weekend. We tried to make it happen.

Andrew woke up at the crack of dawn, per usual. He made a conscious effort not to come in and tell us that he was awake, but he stomps when he walks, and he pees likes he's ringing a dinner bell.

It was the enthusiastic shutting of dresser drawers that woke up his sister. Elizabeth stumbled into our bedroom and climbed between us. Mindful of Rachel's request, I let Elizabeth tug on my hair. She likes to touch hair with her right hand while she sucks her left thumb. Her favorite hair is her brother's "because it's curly" but he can't stand it. This comes up a lot when they are sitting on the couch watching television or riding in the car. 

(I probably mind it the least of all the family members when Elizabeth monkey-grooms my head, but for obvious reasons, my head is her fourth choice.) 

Anyway, I was lying there, feeling the tugs, thinking that it was a easy sacrifice to make for my weary wife. I imagined her sleeping blissfully, unaware of the kid-tornado next to her, since I was silently absorbing all the motion.

It turned out, after later discussion and attempts to take credit, that Rachel thought the same thing was happening to me.

Comments

[m in germany]

Joe, it's time you bought a hairpiece. And you can make it a curly one, too. =)