My Morning Hours

I have never loved the 6-8 a.m. timeslot more than I do these days. Daddy and daughter time. We start off by sitting down at the piano. Evvy loves hearing me play and she is now mesmerized that she can make sounds of that big upright. And she's mad good, too. Yeah, she's almost five months now, but I swear the girl can play. I want her to be whatever she wants, she can love or hate sports, ballet, theater, cooking, hiking, dressing up, being girly...but between you and me...I PRAY SHE IS A SINGER/SONGWRITER. I have always been obsessed with girls who can sing and write music. Evvy Delilah: Singer/Songwriter. Kind of perfect. No pressure (as I hire three piano teachers today to turn her into a prodigy right quick).

Then we play on the floor blanket ala RIE. I lay down there with her. Kind of never happier than when I am playing with my daughter (and my nephews and Godkids) and making up worlds with them. Finally, people who don't think I am super weird for being, well, super weird. Our new favorite made up song: SISSY ON THE HIGHWAY, SISSY ON THE HIGHWAY...DON'T CROSS THE STREET CUZ THERE'S SISSY AT YOUR FEET. Huge hit around these parts.

Then we play my recently downloaded Disney playlist. Evvy is mad for Belle's songs in Beauty And The Beast. We sing, dance around. I put Evvy up in the air and say "How did you get up there?" I repeat that a few dozen times. She laughs and laughs. I get chills. Seeing my daughter laugh gives me chills. Well, making my daughter laugh really does me in right good.

Then, a lot of activity behind us, the baby girl rubs her eyes. And by 7:45 she is plum tuckered. Who isn't, you know what I mean? And then to the crib. Sleep sheep goes on. And then I have to start prepping to talk to people who are not nearly as interesting as a five month old.