Morning

I woke up at the crack of dawn to a blow in the face precisely executed with a little elbow, a subtle indication that the Bean was ready for her breakfast, but after five sleepless mucus-ridden nights I was just happy that I had spent some time in REM sleep and I hadn't had to play ER in the middle of the night so I didn't even mind the surprisingly strong stroke of the small elbow in my face and with the grace of a drunken zombie I staggered out into the kitchen to prepare the food and the medications where through the early morning head-fog I noticed that last night's chill still lingered in the air and the sun hadn't come up yet to break the silent darkness that cozily covered the evergreen land outside so there was no background noise as I carefully pulled the Vimpat and the Keppra and the Prevacid into small plastic syringes but then the stillness of the morning was shattered by the Bean's cough, that dreadful kind that would make a beefy alcoholic smoker proud, and it was my cue for grabbing the venting gear to let the air out of her tummy and after freeing her from some explosive bubbles and some sluggish mucus and suctioning a sea of secretion out of her tiny nose, the coughing subsided and I was finally able to feed her breakfast.