The early bird

Ata mārie, friends! Good morning. I made the mistake of letting Laurel the flailing, kicking, sighing, talking sleeper climb into bed with me last Thursday night when Dennis was in Sydney. At home, this sometimes works out kind of OK in our enormous fabulous bed (The Crack Bed, we call it, because once you've gotten in, you just never want to get out and be a functioning citizen ever again), but not here in the double or maybe almost-Queen size bed that we have. Sadly, she woke me sometime before 5am (those of you that know me are thinking, "Uh oh. This will not end well.") and I finally just got up and went downstairs to find..... good lord, this sunrise. It changed by the second as I stood there in my PJs and wet, cold bare feet. Holy cow. And so Laurel lived another day.