Once upon a time, not long ago, I would collect my daughter from her crib every morning and we’d head downstairs to lie down and take another quick nap.

Like this.

And this.

That time has officially passed.

Now when we go downstairs, she’s a tiny whirling ball of flailing, clapping, babbling, and dancing…sometimes all at once.

And her father, who is a shoo-in for the,”Least Likely to Awaken Before Noon” award (I sleep horribly; always have), has a difficult time handling such rampant kinetic energy so early in the morning.

“Gogogogo!”

That said, I wouldn’t trade this time for anything.  And, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, I never lose sight of how lucky I am to have it.  It’s essentially the only time Daphne and I are together on the weekdays.  And if that time must be spent singing and dancing and wrestling in an attempt to keep her from hurling herself off the bed?

Well then I’ll happily take it.

Because even that won’t last forever.

j.s.