Just yesterday they had woken to the sounds of the waves in Manly beach. There was only two of them there. Things moved slower. There was no climbing, bouncing or shouting. Just peace and quiet. They missed the four of them, but not enough to not appreciate the stillness and the lack of responsibility. They could get up when they wanted.
But today, the four younger ones set the pace. "I want my breakfast" said the youngest boy at the top of his voice. He is a voracious eater in the morning. "I have a sore leg" whimpered the oldest of the boys. He cried for effect; desperately seeking the attention of his inattentive parents. They were playing a game of 'who will crack first'; each burying their heads deeper under the doona.
The young girl stated that she had a sore tummy. "I need a cuddle" she said simply. She tucked in under her mother's wing. The middle son tried to be still. Tried to want to stay in bed but was lured to a game of sprinting down the hallway and jumping wildly on the couch while squealing in delight. The parents smiled (how could they not?) and realised they were fighting a losing battle.
Eventually he gave in first (he usually does). He rose from the bed, grumpy and fumbling for some warm clothes while the eldest boy continued to carry on about his sore leg. Wasn't it your other leg a moment ago? Perhaps a bit more sleep for you son? He was dispatched back to bed. They were just five then.
The little girl continued to complain of a sore tummy. As she and her mother got up out of bed, she requested she take her doona ('blanky') for a spell on the couch. She looked up hopefully, knowing that her blanky was meant to stay in her bed. Her mother begrudgingly agreed.
Breakfast was served. The youngest boy spilled his all over the floor. Three times. The middle boy gobbled his down and requested more. The little girl took one mouthful after a sip of orange juice and vomited all over her precious 'blanky'. The two parents got to work cleaning up all the spills and comforting the children.
He looked at her helplessly. He was about to go off to work and leave her with the vomiting child and the boy with the "sore leg". He knew the day wouldn't go well for them, but there was nothing he could do. He kissed them all and went on his way. She looked at his departing frame longingly. Was it only yesterday that they were in Manly? Really?
The beginning of another day with four small children. Not even a regular day.
What goes on on a Sunday morning at your place?