Last night after trying to squeeze myself into toothpick-like proportions in order to accommodate the current four-in-a-bed family sleeping scene, I awoke feeling none too rested.
The husband stared up glumly as I emerged from the bedroom, eyes pasted shut from the overzealous use of medicated eye-drops I'd made him squirt perhaps a touch too liberally into my aching eyes last night at bedtime.
I imagine I looked quite a picture - clad in my oversized neon pink t-shirt and a frown.
"Sleep well?" he asked out of habit, barely glancing up (who can blame him) as I shuffled past, in the direction of the stove and the espresso machine.
"Urghh" I muttered, same as I do everyday.
Egg bounded out past me, happy as always, looking like nothing so much as an oversized pretty bunny. He needs a haircut.
A few moments later, Dumpie streaked past, naked as the day he was born, and flew into the other bedroom, slamming the door as he went. Unlike Egg, he has clearly inherited the husbands' and my morning disposition.
When, a little while later, the husband reached for his bike pedometer about the same time as I made a lunge for my very worn running top, we realised we had a conundrum on our hands.
We both wanted to get in a bit of exercise before the school run - and even the previous night's indulgence in a Root Beer Float was not enough to sway things my way.
"Fine" I said, "Let's 'paper-scissor-stone' for it" I gamely suggested. When in doubt, this archaic symbol throwing hand game usually serves to help us decide on such issues as childcare, who has to clean Dumpie's dirty behind, who has to accompany one of the monsters to the toilet during a meal, etc.
We did. He won. Damn.
However when Egg got on his little trainers and stood bouncing up and down in excitement beside me, begging to go on a run with me, the husband gave in, and said I could go for my run if I took Egg.
Thirty minutes later Egg and I returned. My heart rate stayed at pretty much resting rate throughout, as I'd not wanted to stretch Egg too much. To that end, I'd done my usual circuit in such a ridiculously slow fashion as to have appeared a rather comical figure I imagine - bouncing vertically in a exaggerated up and down motion, tiny-stepping my way so as to let the little fella keep up (both physically and spirit-wise).
Nonetheless, it was not all in vain. Egg has notified me of his plans to one day compete in the Olympics, and has declared his love for long distance running. And this despite being forced for a few kilometres or so, to fall in directly behind a chug-chug-chugging 'Mama-Bear', on a narrow village road, past rice paddies and barking dogs in the hot morning sun. All in the name of parental bonding.
Ah...brings tears to the eye...almost.