Sometimes I look over at my husband when he's like, soooooooo happy and pleasant and sunshine-y first thing in the morning cause he just woke up from the best nights sleep ever, and I sort of want to kill him. I think to myself, WHY AM I THE FAVORITE? Why am I the one the kids love to leave their beds for? Why am I the one they wake up to get their drinks at night? Why am I the one they flop on, and roll over? Why do they fall back asleep directly on top of MY head.
I mean, their dad's head is RIGHT. THERE.
But then again.
I am the favorite.
And because I'm the favorite, I'm the one who's woken up by Isla. So I'm the one who gets to witness Isla roll over and play with her brother's still-sleeping face. And in turn, watch that brother roll over and put his arms around his sister, and with his eyes still closed, groggily muster out a, "I love you too Isla."
The job has its perks.