early mornings

Jordan woke up to pee at six this morning. She had to knock on her door for someone to come and help her out because Elliot was sleeping against it. Steven had her move (drag? heave?) Elliot just enough to open the door and then he put her back in her bed. Five minutes later Ellie was crawling into bed with me. You'd think that an opportunity to cuddle up with one's sweet, soft two-year-old while she fell back to sleep would be awesome. It is - for the first few minutes. She fell back asleep, nice and warm and heavy in my arms. Then she flung an arm over my neck, and not in the sweet way. Then she had some sort of dream and was twitching and lurching around. I didn't fall back asleep.

Closer to seven the boys woke up, which preceded the childhood joy that always comes with a lot of squealing and laughing and turning on lights in their room and the hallway and not turning them back off. They make a lot of noise. Elliot woke up and joined them. Someone made someone else mad and the squealing took on an entirely different pitch. The mad person became happy again. Laughing and hollering ensued.

This drives me insane.

Pitter patter of little feet? Seriously? Who comes up with the little euphemistic phrases to describe childhood? More like the thundering of feet up and down the hallway until someone trips and falls down, careening into the wall and then laying there and wailing until someone comes to their aid and makes them feel sufficiently cared about.