Good morning, dear! How did you sleep? Not great? Oh, that’s too bad.
Well, I know you didn’t ask, verbally at least — your eyes with their laughable-wannabe dark circles looked as if they might care — but I didn’t sleep very well, either.
You saw every other hour on the clock? That is AWFUL. Terrible… I saw every half hour. Oh, and FYI, we need to buy a new clock after I…well, it’s broken.
Daddy’s tired, Thomas, he can’t see that you need help tying your shoes through the intense fog of his sleepiness.
That’s a really big yawn. Huge. You know, I’m not sure my mouth has closed since I started yawning this morning. See-possible lockjaw. No, I WASN’T trying to bite you!
Anyway, while I was up with the kids this morning — you know, while you were still sleeping, I thought that maybe today we could —
That wasn’t a dig. I’m just saying that I was taking care of the kids at 5:00 a.m., and you were asleep. I know, because you were snoring. Just giving a timeline here.
Ugh, I know. I can barely keep my eyes open, either. That hour I spent with Thomas after his nightmare really did me in. That’s why I’m using this white cane to get around while I straighten up the family room — my eyes are practically fused shut. Oops, sorry! … And, again. Honey. Then wear a cup.
You were too cold last night? Oh, believe me, I know. Because you thought I was sleeping when you stole this blanket from me. But I wasn’t. Calm down! It’s a knot. Definitely NOT a noose.
Lilly, repeatedly telling Daddy that you’re hungry isn’t going to get food in your mouth. He’s in a state of imitative-fatigue paralysis.
I know — six hours is well below the recommended amount of sleep. I know this because I looked it up at two in the morning while I was feeding the baby. FUN FACT: Did you know that you, honey, are merely paranoid and irritable from your lack of sleep, while I, darling, could be declared legally insane in a court of law? Crazy, right? Not unlike me right now.
Why are you looking at me like that with your only slightly drawn complexion and faint murmurings of fine lines, while I stand before you with bags to my chin and the bedhead of Hagrid’s and Hermione’s lovechild?! I’m just sharing information here. Though I’m sure you’re having a hard time processing, what with your head nestled softly on the pillow in a dozy glow of oblivion.
There’s NOTHING behind Mommy’s back, Thomas!
So, just continue with your football-watching-sleep-deprivation reversal therapy. You deserve it. D, as in something I refuse to say in front of the children, SERVE it!
We’re both exhausted. I agree. Your definition of “exhausted” may come from the pusillanimous urban dictionary of the mostly-well-rested, but I’m not bitter, DEAR. That’s just how things go sometimes. Not enough sleep. That’s life. We’re parents.
You’re dead, and I’m the mom.
I meant ‘DAD’.