Good morning.

Baby B was up at 5:30 am this morning. And after repeated attempts to get him to sleep just one more hour, I finally gave up when he sat up and began chucking his paci off of the bed. Little stinker. So we got up, did our morning thing, read some books, and finally settled into breakfast about an hour or so earlier than we normally do our morning nosh. While he dissected ate a banana, I entertained him with an interpretive dance while Ants Marching played on Pandora. He rocked along happily in his seat, smooshing banana with his chubby little hands all the while.

Then he took a bath, and all was good in the world until I had to dry him off, diaper, and clothe him. Anything that involves restriction of any sort seems to be a torturous event these days. Lots of crying and body contortion ensued as I tried to wiggle a tee shirt over his head. This is what happens when you get up AN HOUR AND A HALF before you usually get up. But try telling that to a head strong one-year-old.

But, he's napping now. And it's raining outside. So I'm sipping coffee and contemplating whether or not to clean or do laundry or just kick up my feet and read the newest Jane Green novel, Dune Road - which conveniently arrived at the library after my week-long vacation where I actually had time to read.

Happy Wednesday, all :)