Mr. Cuteness and little cuteness

Today was the last day of Dave’s two week break from school. If I thought that Christmas break was the perfect break, I had no idea what the word perfect meant. This break was incredible. We had the perfect daily combination for a vacation.

Beach. Pool. Lunch. Nap. Amazing.

So on the last day of this perfect break, Dave offered for me to have my own “mommy break” today. He told me last night that I should take four hours this morning all to myself, and he and Mimi would play.

Deal.

I thought I’d go shopping, go to the beach, or relax by one of the resort pools, but when I woke up this morning, all I wanted to do was sleep. So he took Mia and went in the family room, and I got out of breakfast duties, diaper duties, and being a responsible parent in the morning.

It was perfect.

About 40 minutes into my “four hour” break, I went out to the kitchen to get some breakfast for myself. There I found the evidence.

Milk. Eggs. And Cookies for breakfast. Busted.

Complete with messy face and all.

Apparently, I wasn’t supposed to see that because I was supposed to be sleeping.

I retreated to the bedroom, and about 10 minutes into the next part of my “four hour” break, I heard the familiar little knocks at my door.

Little Cuteness. I couldn’t resist.

Mia came in and snuggled and talked and talked about very important things she wanted me to know about. I couldn’t understand her one bit. But I could understand how beautiful her morning hair is as it falls across her eyes and how cute her little tongue is when it moves over her teeth when she talks.

I love that little girl.

So even though my “four hour” break was more like “one hour,” I am grateful. It was a nice, kind, gesture from Mr. Cuteness.

Back in my previous life (aka pre-med school wife times), Mr. Cuteness used to watch Mia on Saturday mornings for hours while I indulged in my addiction for garage sales. Then Saturday mornings turned into ½ marathon training time, and again, Mr. Cuteness stepped up and gladly watched Mia while I ran for two hours. He would even drive with Mia and meet me at different points along my route with water and lots of encouragement.

I say “watched,” I know. It’s not babysitting. It’s parenting. And he’s wonderful at it.

I am grateful that we support each other in our individual dreams, desires, concerns, and needs.

That’s not mushy. It’s family.

And I love being in my little family.