It's a Thursday morning, 6 a.m. Evelyn usually wakes up around 7:15 or so, and me and Adrianne have a system where I’m finishing getting ready right when she gets up. It’s a pretty solid system, considering we just kind of fell into it: Adrianne wakes up early, around 5:45, maybe 6 a.m., showers early so we both have hot water. Then she leaves around 7:15 to get to work by 7:30. I get Evey ready and drop her off at daycare around 8 a.m., since I don’t need to be to work until 8:30. And then Adro leaves work early, at 4:30, so she can pick her up in the evenings.
A pretty neat system, and I’ve really started to enjoy the banter with Evey every morning, it gets my day off right. She’s so cute, and will do random cute things, like dancing to Radiohead, that makes me smile.
Every morning we look out the window of her room for a while. Her room looks down the hill to an industrial area where there’s a series of train tracks – pretty eye-catching scenery, really. And just watching her look outside is a good deal of fun.
Anyway, it’s 6 a.m. Adrianne is in the shower. The night before, I played hoops with the guys from 7:30 p.m. to 9:30, so my legs and body are pretty tired. And then I hear, in a woman’s voice, the sing-song, “A-B-C-D-E-F-G! H… I… J… K…” And I’m totally confused. Who has broken into my house to sing me the ABC’s? Are criminals always this chipper? And where is my daughter?
Then, when I come to a little bit better, I realize what’s going on.
Last night, for the first time ever, we left a musical toy in the crib with Evey. I was the one who laid her in there last night, so I saw it in there, but I decided to leave it, because the damn thing is so sensitive, and I didn’t want it to go off when I picked it up. I thought, at the time, that this may be a bad idea.
So now it’s singing. I rush into Evey’s room. Sure enough, she’s awake, sitting there, playing with the toy dog that sings the ABCs in a woman’s voice. This probably isn’t going to go well.
“Evelyn,” I say, as I slowly take the dog away from her, “It’s only 6 a.m. It’s very early. We need to sleep longer, baby. So I want you to go back to bed for another hour or so, OK? Daddy is very tired."
She stares at me as I lay her back down and put a blanket over her. Surprisingly, she does not protest.
I walk back to our bedroom and lay down, waiting for her to begin crying at any moment. I put my big head on the pillow, not even remotely optimistic that I’m going to get back to sleep.
And then… I go back to sleep.
I get up at 7 a.m., take a shower, get dressed. I go back to my bedroom and turn on SportsCenter. I’m laying there for about five minutes when I hear her call out to me, quite simply: “Dad. Dad.”
I go in there, and she’s laying down, waiting for me to get her so we can start our day. I pick her up, give her my traditional toss in the air. And then I take her to the window so we can look at the industrial area.
Another day begins.
A pretty neat system, and I’ve really started to enjoy the banter with Evey every morning, it gets my day off right. She’s so cute, and will do random cute things, like dancing to Radiohead, that makes me smile.
Every morning we look out the window of her room for a while. Her room looks down the hill to an industrial area where there’s a series of train tracks – pretty eye-catching scenery, really. And just watching her look outside is a good deal of fun.
Anyway, it’s 6 a.m. Adrianne is in the shower. The night before, I played hoops with the guys from 7:30 p.m. to 9:30, so my legs and body are pretty tired. And then I hear, in a woman’s voice, the sing-song, “A-B-C-D-E-F-G! H… I… J… K…” And I’m totally confused. Who has broken into my house to sing me the ABC’s? Are criminals always this chipper? And where is my daughter?
Then, when I come to a little bit better, I realize what’s going on.
Last night, for the first time ever, we left a musical toy in the crib with Evey. I was the one who laid her in there last night, so I saw it in there, but I decided to leave it, because the damn thing is so sensitive, and I didn’t want it to go off when I picked it up. I thought, at the time, that this may be a bad idea.
So now it’s singing. I rush into Evey’s room. Sure enough, she’s awake, sitting there, playing with the toy dog that sings the ABCs in a woman’s voice. This probably isn’t going to go well.
“Evelyn,” I say, as I slowly take the dog away from her, “It’s only 6 a.m. It’s very early. We need to sleep longer, baby. So I want you to go back to bed for another hour or so, OK? Daddy is very tired."
She stares at me as I lay her back down and put a blanket over her. Surprisingly, she does not protest.
I walk back to our bedroom and lay down, waiting for her to begin crying at any moment. I put my big head on the pillow, not even remotely optimistic that I’m going to get back to sleep.
And then… I go back to sleep.
I get up at 7 a.m., take a shower, get dressed. I go back to my bedroom and turn on SportsCenter. I’m laying there for about five minutes when I hear her call out to me, quite simply: “Dad. Dad.”
I go in there, and she’s laying down, waiting for me to get her so we can start our day. I pick her up, give her my traditional toss in the air. And then I take her to the window so we can look at the industrial area.
Another day begins.
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