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  • Writer's pictureLiz

Mornings with Zeb


Monday morning after a vacation is the worst feeling in the world. Even Zeb feels it. Sitting across the breakfast table mourning the mostly full bowl of oatmeal he refuses to eat and absentmindedly muttering over and over in his quivery little voice, “Mommy, i don’t! …I don’t!” and, “Mommy…Mooooommmmmyyyyyy… i want Mommmmyyyyyy…”

  Last night he came into my room in the middle of the night, so exasperated because he had accidentally wet the bed. “Wook.” He said, suddenly inches away from my face. “Wook at dis.” He points to himself. “I. am. sunken. Sunken wet.” Even though it’s 3:48am, i laugh out loud and obligingly help him change clothes and let him crawl in bed with me. He smiles, and kisses my cheek. Then snuggles into my body, and falls back asleep with a contented smile on his ridiculously adorable face located exactly perfect on his ridiculously adorable head. And then my heart exploded a little. 


It’s raining. It’s been raining since we got home two days ago, and the forecast says it will likely be raining for the rest of our lives. But now the older two are upstairs, and it’s just me and Zeb waiting here for the oatmeal to miraculously disappear, and the gentle lull of the dishwasher humming quietly away from the the kitchen has put us in a sort of trance. Zeb is staring into the distance, the rain is falling, the dishwasher is churning, the kitten is sleeping… 

Maybe Monday’s not so bad. Who cares about the oatmeal. 

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