My bedroom feels new since we put in blackout curtains. Hanging them may have been the smartest decision of my adult life. So when my youngest comes in all snuggled as a bug on my stomach, it’s easy to drift into the serenity of our breathing.

“Mom?”
“Hm?” I keep my eyes closed.
“No, Mommy?” She demands my full attention as well as visual contact. If I play dead she will stop this early morning insanity.

“Mom? Mommy? Mommy?”

I consider not inhaling, or exhaling.

“Mommy…Mommy…Mommy.”

Don’t. Give. In.

She becomes music, matching what was once our rhythmic slumber. “Mo-mmy, Mo-mmy, Mo-mmy.”

“What.” Period intended.

“Does maybe mean yes?”

Are you for real right now? 

Folks, it’s only week one of summer break.