On a perfect morning, I wake her up. At first she struggles to pull herself out of her dreams. She tries to put her head up, but finds it too heavy and falls back to the mattress. She smiles while she does this, like it's totally amusing. I sing a little song. We chase away the little stars and we shine away the moon.
First hugs, then diaper change and time to nurse. Then I feed her cereal and I eat my breakfast at the same time. She thinks it's very fun to eat together. She chomps her food extra funny when she sees that I'm also chewing.
Then I wash her face and do this funny thing where I sniff her cheeks. I tell her that she "sniffs good". I have been doing this since the beginning. After I get her dressed, I brush her hair. She has amazing hair. It's still very short, but it is an unbelievable texture. It's the thickest baby hair I have ever felt.
While I do these morning baby things, I abandon all thought. I do the things, I enjoy the things, I don't look at the clock, I don't engage in discursive thought. It is the only time of the day when I am not on another planet. It feels very good to be with my daughter, but it feels even better to be with me. Not the me of the future or of the past. Not the me of desires and plans. Just me, having a small brush with reality.