I was sitting on the floor of the kitchen this morning at 6am waiting for my coffee to brew.
I guess normal people might think it’s odd for a grown woman to sit on the kitchen floor. But I’m kind of wary of normal people anyway.
So there I was, sitting criss-cross-applesauce, checking my email on my phone, when I heard the thumping of feet getting closer to the door. I could feel ire rising to my throat: WHY DO THEY WAKE UP SO EARLY? CAN’T A MAMA JUST GET A LITTLE PEACE IN THE MORNING?
The swinging door opened halfway, and Bosey stuck his eyes and nose around the door, his hair sticking straight up in the back.
I started my usual response: BO. IT’S NOT TIME YET. GO BACK TO YOUR BED AND WAIT FOR YOUR CLOCK TO TURN GREEN.
He blinked in the bright lights of the kitchen, not worried about the time, or his clock, or the fact that I was not yet caffeinated and therefore not fit for human interaction.
What do giwaffes eat?
Leaves, I said. Go back to bed.
He blinked again. Ok.
The door swung shut behind him.