Theories

You, last night: "Mama, you know where I was before I was born?"

Me: "Where?"

You: "I was air! See?" *points at picture of me in college* "There I am! I'm the air right next to you."

Coziness

 A new year! Yesterday we had a lazy day while you had a sniffle and your dad's arrival home was delayed by a huge snowstorm. We awoke from a long nap to discover the snow was finally here, and put on our snowsuits and went outside anyway even though it was getting dark. I pulled you on your sled around the garden, and then up and down the sidewalk, then we stopped to shovel and salt the sidewalk, and we decided we needed to go sledding, so I pulled you to the fort and we made snow angels and ran around and threw snowballs and played.

This morning your dad was finally home. "Daddy! You missed all the snow fun yesterday!" you said.

Lately, like your mother, you have been resisting getting out of bed before your due allotment of snuggles. You tend to wake up, ask for a chocolate milk, and then want to lie under the covers a little longer.

The other day you were snuggling with your dad, and he asked you if you were ready to get up.

"No," you said. "I still have some coziness to get out."

I love that idea. That you get so full of coziness, and nothing will relieve it but snuggles.

Tomorrow is your visit to Shore Country Day. I'm worried about how early in the morning we will have to get up, and am wondering about the ethical and parenting implications to using leftover Christmas Godiva chocolates as a bribe. We shall see.