in the mornings she plays by herself for 30 minutes or more. after a diaper change, we set her down on the rug in the living room with a basket of toys nearby and watch her dive into the hard work of play. she scoots around now, in a peculiar fashion that i can’t describe. she can move herself many feet across the floor, grabbing at things as she goes, until she’s left a trail of scattered toys, papers, clean laundry, and whatever else she can get her hands on. and sometimes she pauses and looks for our faces in the nearby kitchen, to exchange a smile and sometimes a word or a little laugh. she’s so delighted and content in the mornings.
which is good because i really need that time during which she is independently playing to finish waking up, to make coffee, to eat some oats or eggs, to get my head around the day.
tim and i get to eat breakfast together most days, you know. i think this might be a rather unusual thing for many couples. many mornings it is actually he who cooks the oats or the eggs (we always have one of those two things) and puts on the french press. i make hazel’s breakfast. then we all sit down at the dining table and eat together. it’s often quiet, or most of the “talking” is hazel’s incoherent but cheerful babble. even though not much is happening, i think that this togetherness at the start of each day counts for something, and matters in subtle ways. the ministry of presence. it cannot be underestimated.
and then we’re off. one of us to morning prayer, the other to getting hazel ready for her morning nap.
that’s a bit of our mornings.