August 25, 2008

Effects of sleep-deprivation from watching the Olympics

Squinting at each other through sleep-fogged eyes, we kissed briefly, careful to turn our heads ever so slightly to avoid the wrath of morning breath. That particular tilt of our heads is an unconscious habit, like so many things in marriage, born from years of daybreak kisses.

I splashed my face with cold water and reached for the towel. I wasn't going to mention it if he wasn't. But he turned to me sheepishly, shaving cream dotting his face in spots.

"Sorry about last night." A self-deprecating grin hid just at the corners of his mouth, ready to jump out at any moment.

"Hmmmm?" I looked at him, not sure exactly which part fell under the apology and so not sure which part to bring up. The sheepish grin won out, leaping across his features and carrying a light blush with it.

"I, well, sort of... fell asleep, didn't I?"

Ah. That part.

"Mmmhhhmmm. Yes, well... it was a bit slow-going there. I noticed you faded in and out." I put on my best attempt at a diplomatic face while trying not to laugh. It was really funny. We both knew it. "Still, it all ended well, for the most part, I suppose. And you were really tired."

But then...

"It did? End well, I mean? Really? I don't-", he stopped as Anna ran into the room. Glancing down at her and walking towards the closet, he finished, "I don't really remember an ending."

Silence fell. Then, after hugging my 3-year-old ball of energy, I asked her, "Sweetie, do you know how old daddy is?"

An indignant laugh sounded from behind me.

"Daddy's 39, mommy! He's older than you!"

"Good girl."

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