Saturday Morning

Baby R whimpers. It turns into wailing, then whining: "Maamaaaa!" 

I sigh. Pat my hand on the bedside table covered in books, a lamp and an alarm clock until I feel my glasses. I put them on and look at the clock. Six-thirty am. 

DH is lying to my right, snoring adorably. 

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and sit for a moment, trying to shake the cobwebs from my sleep-deprived mind and do the math. Between Baby R teething, and S having nightmares, I got about 4 hours of sleep even though I went to bed 8 hours ago.

I stand up and shuffle the few feet to the pocket doors between our beige master bedroom and the green and white nursery with pink floral accents. The ambient light from our room spotlights Baby R standing in her crib. She opens her mouth in a wide, six-toothed smile and bounces, reaching for me. 

"Good morning, Sweet Pea." I lift her up, her pudgy, toddler arms wrapping around my neck, tightening, then releasing in a baby hug. I snuggle her close, breathing in her scent.

She chatters at me, a few words forming amid the sounds. 

"Shh, let's try not to wake Sissy," I say as we go out the door to the hall and down the stairs. We glance out the full-length, narrow window next to the front door. The inviting morning sun highlighting the naked tree branches is deceiving; it's below freezing even though Punxsutawney Phil said winter would be over by now. 

We turn away from the window and head down the hall to the kitchen. I let Baby R struggle to flip the light, then place her in her booster chair. I turn back to the double-door pantry and reach for the Cheerios. I sprinkle some on her blue tray, then walk to the magnetic-letter adorned refrigerator for her Jayhawk sippy cup of milk. 

Once she's occupied, I get out a skillet, start a pot of coffee for DH, and get eggs, butter and bacon out of the fridge. 

Little feet pad their way into the kitchen, and a strawberry-blonde preschooler appears, rubbing her eyes, naked except for her Pull-Up. 

"Good morning, Sunshine."

S's lithe body curls up on her chair next to her baby sister's. "Mama, I'm cold," she says as she does most mornings. 


"Well, it's no wonder since you're nakeypants," I reply, bringing her a green, microfiber throw from the couch to wrap up in.


"Can I have hot chocolate? Pleeeaaasse?"


"Yes, I'll make you some. What would you like for breakfast?"

She sees the food on the counter by the stove. "Can we make Daddy breakfast in bed?" she asks, excitedly. 

I smile, "That's the plan."

"Can I help?" 

"Sure. Bring your stool over here." I help her crack eggs into a bowl and hand her a whisk while I start the bacon.

We finish cooking, and I load up the serving tray before getting Baby R down from her chair. S races to the stairs and Baby R toddles after her. I smile as I hear S screaming, "Daddy! Daddy! Wake up! We brought you breakfast!"

Baby R reaches the top of the stairs and screeches on her way down the hall so as not to be left out. I walk in and place the tray on the queen-size bed, arranging the food and the kids to minimize the mess, and look at my beautiful family. I sit down to join them and can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be. 

Imagine you are meeting someone for the first time. You want to tell them about yourself.

Instead of reciting a laundry list of what you do or where you're from, please give us a scene from your life that best illustrates your true self.

This is an exercise in showing, not telling. You need to show us why this particular moment defines you, or why you want someone to know this truth about you. Be descriptive without bogging us down in extraneous details.

Word limit is 600. This is to help you self-edit and to make it easier for us to read you.