Night and day…

I always scoffed when Nana told me that me and my sister were like ‘night and day’ when we got up in the mornings, even though I knew it to be true. She, a total weirdo, was a morning person, and got up early and did the girly hair and makeup thing. I, normal in every way, got up at the last possible moment, grumped out to the car, and pulled my hair into a ponytail somewhere alone the way and considered it good. Now, it’s even MORE amusing, because now? it’s MY girls.

Exhibit A: The Girl

Her morning routine is very likely the main reason we know she is mine, and not somehow my sister. Because, you see, she gets up only after several yells, and stomps and grumps down the hall, only half the time actually making it into the shower on time, the other half doing the ‘hair in the pony tail’ route before FLOPPING down on the couch for a 10 minute catnap, only then will she grab her stuff and stomp out the door.

She does, however, redeem herself in her Auntie’s eyes by being extra girly EVERY OTHER SECOND OF THE DAY. From nails, to hair, to makeup (very little, and she only gets to wear it if it’s so natural I can’t tell she has it on), to sewing, to crafty stuff, to talking on the phone for hours, to PINK EVERYTHING! MUST! HAVE! PINK!

But oh, the amusement Nana gets from the stories of my having to DRAG THE GIRL physically out of bed every morning. Probably because by the time she gets down to Nana and Papa’s house for breakfast, she’s discovered her smile and her oh so cute giggle.

And then there’s Exhibit B: The pup.

This child BOUNCES out of bed. Litterally. She is singing by the time she hits the bathroom, and outright laughing by the time she hits the living room. There are games, jokes, constant reminders to quit playing around and GET CLOTHES ON ALREADY ya streaker, and laughter and “oh! mom! guess what!” so on and so forth. She – the child who talks even in her sleep – barely pauses for breath as she tells me of her dreams, and what she’s going to do at school oh and the plantitive cries of “MOOOOOOM where’s PAPA? I’m HUUUUUUUUUUNGRY!”

She picks her clothes, gets dressed (with reminders that hello! you cannot go to school NAKED so put them ON please.) grinning her gap-toothed smile all the while. There is the constant daily search for shoes that she never seems to be able to PUT IN THE SHOE CUBBY so that we don’t have to do this EVERY SINGLE DAY. There is the poking, the laughing, the crawling into my lap just to get in my way.

These two girls, MY girls, couldn’t be more different if they actively tried. And I love them exactly the same, for exactly that reason.

(What about the boy, you ask? Ha. We don’t speak to him in the mornings. Just like it’s usually wise not to speak to me in the mornings too. Heh. That one’s mine, without a doubt!)

(….they’re all mine without a doubt, ya freaks. but ya know what I mean. *g*)