He looked calm. Too calm. That could only mean the storm was delayed. It typically took two weeks to get him into a new routine, so we were far from it, and this was his first five-day week of school.
Stella had reported that he’d been quiet and hesitant butcurious so far. Which was as good an outcome as I could ask for.
“Morning, Mama,” he said, not looking up from his Legos.
“Why is Darth Vader hanging out with Iron Man?” I asked, pulling my hair back and stretching.
As much as I could use my morning run, I was too overwhelmed with getting this full school week started to take the time.
He looked up at me. “Because they both wear metal helmets,” he explained like it was obvious. Of course.
I let out a light chuckle, blinking. Coffee. Good God, I needed coffee.
“I don’t wanna go to school today,” he murmured, his head down.
“Why not?”
“It’s Monday. We have music class.”
“I know that’s not your favorite, Bud, but your headphones are in your backpack.”
He looked up, his little lips turned down. “It’s loud, and I don’t like the room. The windows are low and I can’t see the sky.”
I crouched and kissed the top of his head. “That’s annoying.” Knees popping, I stood, then headed into my bathroom to grab my toothbrush. “The good news is, the sky is still there, and music is only forty-five minutes long. And don’t you have recess after?”
He muttered something unintelligible.
“And isn’t Monday gaga day?” I stood in the doorway, toothbrush held aloft.
He picked his head up and smiled. “Yes. I forgot. First grade gets the gaga pit on Mondays.”
“See? Lots to look forward to. Now go get dressed.”
Down the hall, Maggie was already singing enthusiastically. Ellie was probably still asleep. Knowing I’d have to face her soon, I took a two-minute shower. Then I brushed my hair. A layer of tinted moisturizer and mascara completed my supersonic morning routine.
Julian, God bless him, had dressed and brushed his teeth. The visual calendar we’d hung on his wall was a game changer.
“I’ll fill the water bottles,” he chirped. “I’m not waking up Ellie.”
With a fake pout, I agreed, but when his little feet pattered down the stairs, I couldn’t help but smile.
While Julian was up at five thirty every day, Ellie was a tween and therefore believed that waking up before ten a.m. was a war crime.
“Mom, can you do a French braid today?” Maggie stepped out of her room wearing turquoise bike shorts, an oversized yellow T-shirt, at least four necklaces, and a big morning smile.
I pulled her in for a side hug. “Morning, luvie. We might have braiding time, but if you’ve already brushed your teeth, I need you to make the coffee.”
“On it.”
The door to the girls’ room was wide open and the lights were on. Maggie’s bed was already haphazardly made, but Ellie was buried under a mountain of blankets.
“Ellie belly,” I singsonged. “Time to wake up.”
“Ughbsr,” she moaned.
“I know you’re awake,” I murmured. “How could you not be after twenty full minutes of Maggie’s scream singing?”
“It’s the worst,” she grumbled.