every other morning Tweet

I'm barely awake when he starts talking. I certainly have no voice. When I try to shush him, I'm as successful as a fledgling bird. Significantly less articulate, less loud than a newborn child. He keeps waffling. Annoyed, having hushed the alarm already, I lock him into a blind embrace, like one would draw nearer a cat that rose before the sunrise only to pester one awake.

"You'd like me to shut up", he says. "But this is nothing compared to what you're doing at night."

I hug him closer and push his head towards my breast to quiet him through either affection or temptation. He adjusts his face so that he's comfortable and breathing.

"Right when I'm falling asleep, you're suddenly going Tell me about your business plan again."

I laugh. I have no voice, but I laugh. He's just amused me into awareness.

"Or, rather, I've come across a problem with Einstein's relativity theory that I must run by you."

"At least you can't complain my chatter isn't intellectual."

He laughs. That was it, that was my voice. I'm whole again, I'm up. He won. Just like I win when my waffle puts him to sleep much faster than his charged brain would otherwise allow. We're a win-win, I kid you not.