She wakes when Daddy wakes this morning, at 5am, when not only do I not want to get up, but the sun does not want to get up, either. She's an entire-day-and-night person, who finds sleep a Great Inconvenience. But her sleep-requiring body hasn't let her see a dawn in the seven years since she was a wee baby who didn't know 5am from 5pm, much to my unrest.
"Daddy goes to work in the middle of the night?!" are her first words today. I'm not at the speaking stage of waking yet, but take her to an East-facing window where the teeniest bit of light can be seen in the otherwise black night.
After handing Daddy a homemade Egg McMuffin, a handful of grapes, and a cold water bottle, I suggest we go back to bed. She can cozy up with me in our bed, if she wants.
The window is too much of a temptation. She is fascinated by dawn, observing it from the window, until I take her by the hand to see the Morning Star (or is that Saturn?). She likes the star/planet, but the eerie sounds of breaking dawn frighten her indoors.
We crack the door just a tiny bit to hear. This is a lot less scary than standing outside in it.
Through the door's crack, we hear a coyote howl. The door shuts.
Soon, I suggest that since it's becoming more light, the coyote might have gone to bed now. She cracks the door open again. An owl hoots, roosters crow, a turkey makes whatever sound turkeys make. The cricket and frog sounds are fading.
Our world is brightening.
The river, the lowest point of our back yard, is still black, so she is still "just a little scared" of it. "When it's not black," she says, "then it will be morning."
A few minutes later, I say, "It's morning, see, the river isn't dark anymore…you can see the leaves floating downstream. But it's still early. Let's go back to bed now."
"Oh, no we can't," she says, "It's morning now. It's time for people to get up!"
It's 5pm now, and I'm tired. 5am is very early.
But I did so enjoy introducing our little gal to her first dawn.