He's brushing his teeth.
I'm hiding in the dark hallway, pajama-clad with camera in hand, wanting to remember how handsome he looks before he puts on his peacoat and heads out the door.
Those girls in the office are lucky, I tell him, for they get to look at him all day!
Each morning, I get up when he does, in order to pack his lunch, warm up his car, check the forecast, chat with him, and hopefully make the day begin a little easier.
It still feels weird staying home and not going into work myself. But then I remember that I was up at 12:30 AM for a feeding and then again at 3:15, followed by an emergency clean-up bath, promptly at 5 AM, for the poop had exploded everywhere in Liam's pajamas.
In fact, when Michael stepped into the bathroom for his shower at 5:15, he was surprised to find us there, occupying the tub, with all the apparatuses that such an endeavor entails. Amid the chaos of wash cloths, bath towels, baby wash, a little rubber seat, a plastic tub, a spongy whale thing for my knees, and a few rubber duckies, Liam gave a big, wide smile to his daddy when he walked in the door, all sleepy and still somewhat incoherent.
These are our mornings. And I couldn't be happier with them!
