a routine

Every morning that I get to stay at home with my daughter, Nora, we do the same thing. We'll get up, slowly. Making up some sort of game lying in bed. I'll tickle her or try to get her to say "morning" one more time. It comes out more like, "maw-in" or something of the sort. She gets out of bed first. Then we stroll into the kitchen. She usually eats a banana with her cheerios. After all the preparations, we go into the living room. I have my chai tea and she has her cereal. We're still rubbing our eyes. Then we sit side by side eating out breakfast in the rocking chair. This is the same rocking chair that my mom rocked me in. I am always wishing that someone were there to take a photo. My camera has a timer, but that simply wouldn't cut it. There we'd be with our big blue eyes and messy hair, eating cheerios, mine with milk, hers dry. These are some of my favorite moments. I hope she continues to want to eat breakfast with me for years to come.