She keeps waking up earlier than expected or necessary.
It means she has time to go through her brother's bag, pull out his shorts and insist she wear them.
"On Mama, On! No Mama help you. On!"
She has time to point up to the freezer and request frozen strawberries. And time for me to ask her if she wants me to cut them and her to respond with, "Ok!"
She has time to request that Dada help pull a chair in to the kitchen so she can say, "Ava cooking!" as she stands at the counter and stabs at the chopped frozen berries with a child's knife and fork.
She has time to eat a berry, look at me and say,
"Mama jump jump?"
Then look at Matt and say,
"Dada jump jump?"
Than smile and look at both of us and say,
"Berry jump jump?" and do her little hop giggling with the berry in her mouth.
And I have time to make a cup of coffee and stand with her in the kitchen as I drink it.
And I have time to breath a little and just be before the day begins.
And 30 minutes later when my wake up alarm goes off, I've already started my day.
It helps that I've been going to bed at 9.
Maybe she knows something deeper about being, and moments and what matters right now.
Or maybe she's a toddler whose comprehension of the world around her is exploding and she simply cannot sleep any longer because there is so much to discover.
Like this morning she learned the word headboard.
"Headboard mama!"
