This is Oscar on the couch with his beloved blankie.

Mornings are my favorite time (even though I’m tired). It’s a time when the day has not yet solidified and become a to-do list. It’s a time when Oscar likes to snuggle.

The memory of a cozy bed still lingers.

The house is quiet and still somewhat orderly.

We have a little ritual with the first diaper change (although I wish we could put this off until after my first cup of coffee).

He shows me his belly button.

And I show him mine.

Breakfast: toast, strawberries, yogurt.

On this particular morning Oscar also ate a bowl of granola and a plate of cheese and crackers. Sometimes he eats more than a grown man. Sometimes he eats one bite of food before declaring himself stuffed for the day. He doesn’t actually say these words, he just shakes his head, hands me his plate, and insists I put it out of site immediately. He won’t allow there to be any food in his site that he doesn’t want to eat.

He also won’t allow there to be any food on his fingers.

If I don’t drop everything and wipe his fingers on demand, he will wipe them on me. Or cry at the injustice.

Once breakfast is over (it can last minutes or hours) Oscar usually settles in with his toys. This is my absolute favorite thing, watching him play and imagine and think and create.

Sometimes he’s content to play like this for a long time. Other times he pats the floor next to him impatiently, wanting me to join in. Sometimes I get some work done. Sometime I have to leave him, which is the hardest thing I do on any given day. Sometimes the morning blurs into afternoon and I wonder where the day has gone.

He is my morning. He is my life.