Mornings

There is a lovely age, somewhere between one and two, when a baby starts to walk, and to talk, and suddenly a whole new little personality develops. Watching it is just magic. I feel so privileged.

Bug doesn't cry when she wakes now. Instead she rolls around in her cot, chuckling. after a while she will start up a "Mumumum... Mumumum... Mumumum..." and when I come in? A big laugh, and a "MUMUMUM!!"

I lift her up, she throws her arms around my neck and buries her face through my untied, early morning hair until we are cheek to cheek. Then she lets out a contented sigh and clings on like a monkey, refusing to be dislodged until I sit down on our usual chair for her early morning feed.

I watch the light from the rising sun creep across the lounge room floor, read the news, and marvel at the tiny, blonde curls that wrap around her ear. It's my favourite way to start the day.