The details of the morning

If there's one thing I've learned from obsessively reading Girls Gone Child archives all morning is that if I'm going to write I have to write.

My chair isn't going to be comfortable all the time, the house isn't going to be the "right kind of quiet" and there will always be dishes and half-finished laundry, plants that need watered, grocery trips to make.  Sometimes when I want to light incense or clean off my desk or put away the torn up notebooks littering my desk or put on lipstick or meditate I should just sit here with my fingers flying and not look up until something has been written.  Every day.

So here's what happened this morning....Lane woke up at 6:55 and I chose to let Colt sleep in.  I laid on the couch under a blanket with my eyes half closed while he crawled around playing with toys, until he brought me a book.  He crawled it all the way over to me and put it on my belly and I thought, "oh cute!  he wants me to read this!" so I read the whole thing ending with a nice big "the end" and he burst into tears.

"Bring me another one!  I'll read you another one!"
Lane crying and crying
"Ok I'll read this one again!"
Lane silent while I read.
"The end!"

He thinks books ending is the saddest thing in the world.  I have to be ready with backup books to swipe out and grab his attention, and god forbid I pretend like a book ending is a good thing.  Instead of "the end" if I try a "YAY!  We read it!"- that's when he really loses it.  He bounces up and down and screams bloody murder and I think, "No way are those tears fake, he must be tired or in pain or something" but sure enough the second I start another book, he's completely silent and content.  He's gotten REALLY GOOD at faking it.

Then I let him walk around the house while holding onto my hands, which has been a favorite for a few days, except this morning he kept sitting down and crying out of nowhere.

Colt woke up from all the commotion and we drove to get breakfast.  Colt and I had a petty argument about details around his upcoming comic book convention in Asheville, he decided to walk home and I ordered us two breakfast sandwiches in an attempt to reconcile.  Halfway home I picked up pouty Colt on the sidewalk and drove everyone back to square one, only to realize the store had given me ONE sandwich.  That's okay - one sandwich can feed three people - (have I mentioned Lane has been a ravenous beast?) - so I take my half of the coveted sandwich and give Lane a bite which he promptly spits out all over the carpet.  That's okay, he usually spits out his first bite and then realizes it actually tastes good.  Bite two: carpet.  Bite three: carpet.

"Colt, bring me a banana.  This isn't working".

After an entire banana, Lane fell asleep in my arms and I read GGC archives for 149372543 minutes.  And here we are.  Day one of the rest of my life.


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