I woke up this morning with that familiar warm sensation on my cheek. Fleeting, but familiar. As I struggled to open my eyes, I heard him whisper on my ear, "mama, I am hungry".  Auguste Spencer, my Aspen.  That's our ritual every morning when they don't have school. He always beat me to the clock, waking up on the dot at 6:30. I on the other hand is still on yesterday's timetable.  Caught between trying to recoup and seizing the day that's in front of me.  It's a perpetual struggle and only my kids can get me out of it. I reluctantly gave up the foot pocket I've created and the warmth of the cocoon that enveloped me and slowly made my way to the kitchen.   I got jolted by the image I saw in front of me. There he was wide awake with a huge grin on his face loudly declaring: " I'll have a bowl of granola cereal, honey wheat hawaiian bread, 2 slices of fresh mango and water for breakfast please. And oh, scrambled egg if you are not tired." How in the world can someone be that alive at that time is beyond me. But that's him. Very much like his dad. Forrest as usual left at 5:30am to do rounds at the hospital. Parrish is very much like me, still in bed and will be there until around noon. He probably would sleep through an earthquake if there ever was one. LOL. As I sat there and watched him eat he reminded me about a funny thing that happened last night. He wanted to say he's sorry for his behavior. What happened was he was insisting that it was a special day and so by default he should be allowed to drink Sprite. Mind you it was already 7pm and that Sprite was there since their bday in March. I don't usually have pop at home unless there is a party. So I reminded him that the pop is old and that it is too late in the night for it.  We went back and forth on this,  him pleading his case and I vigorously defended mine. After a while he kept quiet and I thought that was the end of it.  I should have known better. It is Aspen after all. As I was tucking him in bed he requested that I stay when he says his prayer.  Very unusual for someone who is very private. He usually wants me to leave by the time he does his "alone" time with God.  And so there I was listening to him pour out to God saying: "Dear God, please tell my mama to let me drink Sprite". I on the other hand thought it was my cue to start praying when he paused as if waiting for me to say my piece said,  Dear God, please let Aspen know that Sprite is bad for him.  I waited for his answer to that and without skipping a beat he said: "Dear God, please disregard my mama's last prayer".  I burst out laughing. I laughed so hard that my husband came up to check if everything was okay.  Aspen,  in some ways he is so much like his dad and a lot of ways like me.  He just turned five but acts like he is thirty.  But I won't have him any other way.

Hi April,