But apparently both of my children are. They are their most delightful selves early in the morning. I wake up every morning at 6:45 am to a sweet little boy telling me that he wants waffles, NOW. And God help me if I tell him I just want to sleep five more minutes. "I NEED WAFFLES NOOOOW, MOMMY", like he's been starved all week. His younger brother follows closely behind at 7 am, where I find him sitting up in his crib chirping about God knows what. As I change his diaper, he rattles off every animal on Old McDonald's farm and every sound that each animal makes, as if he's been singing the whole song all night in his sleep. They are so sweet and so adorable that I feel guilty I'm not as perky in the morning. Their early morning cheerfulness is a trait they have inherited from their father, not me. Most people that know me would agree it is wise to stay away from me before 9 am, sometimes 10 am.
Last year, Mike went to visit his brother in Boston, and they went to a baseball game at Fenway Park. He brought me home a t-shirt that says "Green Monstah" on it. If you don't know - like I didn't - what the Green Monstah is (it's actually Green Monster, but the Monstah is a play on the Boston accent), it's the nickname for the left field wall at Fenway. He bought it nice and big so that I could sleep in it. He thought it would be an appropriate nickname for me in the morning.
May he rest in peace.