Letters To Bump

8am wake up. It’s my turn. 6 hours sleep is plenty. Your mom hands you over like that scene in Lion King when they present the cub to the world. Except there are no gazelles or giraffes or lions…. Just a dog with a flatulence problem.

We kiss. She treks up the stairs, closes the door, puts her ear plugs in and falls to sleep faster than turkey night at the nursing home.

It’s just me and you now. I watch Bear Grylls drink his own piss and gut a dead sheep so he can sleep in it. Sheeping bag. Classic.

You sleep. Peacefully.

You pass gas. You smile.

I do the finger test since I can’t smell. You are poope free and I am scot free from getting peed on…. for another hour at least.

You wake up while I’m falling asleep.

I wake up.

I make coffee.

You fall asleep.

Trickster!

I won’t fall for this again. I drink the coffee ‘till you wake up.

You are wide awake.

We stare at each other for the next half hour.

I stick out my tongue, you mirror this action. It’s not much… but I delight in the fact that you are already learning.