It's 6:30 am. It's dark and most households are still sleeping. Not ours. We're pondering life. The little miss sounds the alarm that she's ready for some face-time, and the little mr. is echoing her sentiments. I gather her in my arms and the little mr. follows after me the short distance to our room, his bare feet padding against the hardwood floor, George, his side-kick monkey in tow. We pile in our bed, boy-girl-boy-girl and snuggle tight under the blankets.
In these wee hours the little mr.'s thoughts are turning, mulling. He poses question after question. Why did God make us people and not fish? How come it's morning but it's not light? Is 10 big or is it still little? Our minds and our voices are still foggy as we answer each question the best we can.
Then he asks, "Why did you pick me?" He asks in a way that makes me think he is picturing a giant kid emporium, with babies and kids lined up and parents strolling the aisles looking for the right one. B answers him, "We didn't exactly pick you. God blessed us with you and HE picked you for us. HE knew you were perfect for our family. " The little mr. thought quietly for a bit, but before he could speak B quickly added, "If I could have picked I'd still pick you." He emphasises his point by gently tapping the little mr.'s forehead. A smile spread slowly across his sleepy face and we know this answer satisfies him. His questions turn to the breakfast menu and it's off to start the day.