Usually I am the bouncy, off the charts, chirping bird in the morning. Naturally a morning person, I am up at 5 jumping around, tidying, singing to myself – you know the type. My husband, on the other hand, is quiet, doesn’t like “too many words” in the morning. We co-exist. We usually are on different floors to balance out our differences.
Because I’ve been sick lately, I am not a morning person this week. This morning for whatever reason, my husband was in SUCH a good mood. He was loud, was slapping me on the back in a playful way – and I hated it. I wanted everything quiet and soft. I accused him of being too rough, a by-product of growing up in a household of three large boys, all athletes.
But secretly, deep inside, I’m happy that he was playing the part of me. Somebody needs to be cheerful. Why not him? He was just holding the space of my usual, peppy, loud, chirpy morning person self who hopes she’s back tomorrow.
