Possible Joy

Is it possible to find joy being woken up at 6:30am?  After you stayed up late - because Big D has the day off?  Being woken up starts with the soft tinkling from a strand of stuffed Indian elephants with tinkly bells.  It hangs from their bedroom door.  And it's a beautiful sound, but also one that holds so much dread and anticipation.  So soon? - I think.

Is it possible to find joy when you realize the loud ferocious feet and smackerals of laughing have landed in your bed?  And the jumping and jumping and body kicks.  And then you think your head is literally going to pinch off and roll due to the sheet that got wrapped around your neck and pulled like a tourniquet . . . the pillow is now on your head and used for a chair.

Is it possible to find joy when you've finally been pulled from your bed and greeted with a roar of "EAT - ummies, yok, ohs, ooose" - over and over again.  Over and over. Over and over.  And then you finally generate the energy it takes to wrangle yourself off the couch - that warm nesty spot - to grab the first thing on the menu "ummies".  Which are inhaled.  And before you can make it back to nesty spot - the next menu item is chanted.  "yok yok yok".  On and on.  There is no belly satisfaction until the entire list is consumed.

(I still haven't had my tea.)

Is it possible to find joy when Murnice is weeping and wailing over her eggs that dad made?  Because she wanted scrambled and Big D said, "too bad.  You can have tossed and turned eggs instead."

Yes, I found joy in that.

But then.  But then, Sister sent me this beautiful photo from her morning.  It puts things into perspective for me.  And yes, I do believe I can find some joy in being woken up far too early.  Being pummeled and kicked and trampled upon and made almost headless.  And squawked and hollered and roared and demanded at.

Take Aways
1)  Wear protective armor to bed
2)  Get up at 5am to unsure kidless/tea time
3)  Only make tossed and turned eggs from this day forth