I, in my sweats (yep, one of those moms), Samantha in her flannel nightgown.
We don't get out of the van, of course.
Then we come home and have some cereal. Check the email. Listen to some NPR. You know the drill.
As I clean up the morning kitchen mess from breakfast and lunch prep, Samantha prattles on about the things little girl prattle on about. Plastic kitchen toys she'd like to find under the Christmas tree, Leapster high scores, how the cereal doesn't get soggy if you eat it fast enough, etc.
Her hair is silly.
Mine is too.
She makes funny faces.
Tells me funny dreams.
We do this for a long time. Sometimes until
Eventually we get dressed and brush our hair.
Then we eat some lunch, pack her book bag, hunt for matching socks.
And then at 12:20, I drop her off at the elementary school for afternoon Kindergarten.
I'd be a liar if I said I don't relish those quiet kid-less hours from 12:30 to 3:30.
But I'm going to miss our mornings next year when afternoon Kindergarten is forever in our family's rear view mirror.