The sound of it is so lovely, the actual words of Easy like Sunday Morning. In my memories of childhood, Sunday mornings were anything but easy. With four little girls, all redheads, all 2 years apart, trying to get ready for church; at least one of us would have a meltdown. Usually it was me, I’ll admit it. And there could be screaming and shushing and threats to get me into the car, where I would fume, until we got to church, and then we would put on the Happy Little Family act. That’s just not for me or my own family. It’s not what I want my weekend to be about.
This morning, Bean came scrambling into bed with me, and we snuggled for the longest time. He’s four and still loves to hold me, hold my face cheek-to-cheek with his and rub my shoulder. I lay next to him, all tangled up with him, and smile that there is no place I have to be, nothing I have to hurry to do. We lay wrapped together until he’s ready to wake up and watch some cartoons. I start the coffee. Daddy is still snoozing for a few more minutes.
Benjamin wakes up in an outstanding mood, which is somewhat rare for him. He’s not much of a morning person at 7-years old. We stand in the hallway and hug for a while until he plods off to sit in front of the TV for a few.
In a few minutes, we’ve got breakfast smells warming up the house. Daddy’s making toast and eggs, or pancakes or waffles. We laze around until after 10:00 before we get out our chore lists and start working on one project or another around the farm, or the house, or just cleaning out the kids’ room.
(This is from a Writing Prompt over at All Things Fadra, called Stream of Consciousness Sunday. I like it. I think I’ll do it every Sunday!)
Photo of a typical sunrise at our place in Southern Oregon, taken by my rockstar Husband!