All Gas, No Naps.

Monday. Dreading the cold. Running on zero hours of sleep because life is too fun to sleep . But I still had this sneaky little gut feeling that today was gonna be good.

I remote-start Betty. She’s warm, Bluetooth connects instantly (shocking). The drive? Immaculate. No idiots drag-racing their way to mediocrity, my cold brew slaps, and the jams are hitting exactly right. Fine. Maybe today IS a good day.

I walk in. Kids still out cold, I get the dishes done and the laundry started. Boom. Ahead of schedule. Already winning.

Sis wakes up first. We snuggle, pick her episode, then have learning time- almost a full hour before Bubs even stirs. She’s matching, reading, practicing writing her name. She calls it “tricky,” which is adorable and also completely accurate. She’s a lefty. I am not. But since I’m committed to the bit, I switch to my left hand to avoid confusion. Helpful? Debatable. Effort? On lock.

Then I hear him. Bubs wakes up, gives me those sleepy little eyes, and whispers his morning thesis: “Teetee… Teetee home… hug… car… cake pop… car wash.” Man stays on brand. I respect the agenda. We roll out and immediately start musical roulette. The rules? Take turns- Bubs → Sis → Auntie Kate.

Bubs picks first: the Trolls Holiday album. We rock the actual fuck out. Full volume. No survivors. Sis goes next. “I want All Gas by Bilmuri.” Girl. After. My. Heart. And the second it ends, Bubs, from the back seat, hits us with a tiny but mighty “AGAIN.” Hell yeah, brother. By the third round, I’ve got them doing the silly grunts, tiny air guitars- the whole chaotic “hog cranking” experience from their car seats.

That chaotic, musical, crackhead joy stuck with us the whole day. 

Fingers crossed tomorrow doesn’t give me whiplash.