After waking up and kicking and wriggling in our bed for a while, B. turns on his stomach and pushes his way off the bed. He moves things to and fro, starting with my socks drawer which he empties thoroughly. Knowing he’ll be safe for a few seconds, M. and I go back to bed, briefly closing our eyes. The socks are flying all over the room. They are on the bed, under the bed, on the window sill, and in his laundry basket. Now he’s on the other side, pulling the sliding closet door and taking out the towels, napkins, his hygiene products and cloth diapers. Suddenly, we hear an unfamiliar sound. What is he up to? He’s trying to climb the changing table. Yes, he’s made it. I didn’t think he wouldn’t. Get out of there. Down, mister. His diapers are full. He needs to eat. We get up.
While I’m preparing his breakfast, I’m going through today’s to-do list in my head. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, snacks, fruit, don’t forget the fruit and veggies market, strawberries, raspberries, playing in the backyard, nuts, laundry, get the swimming pool ready, cut his nails (he scratches), yogurt, buy cheese, we’re running out, juice, tea with lemon. M’s in a hurry today. He washes up, gets dressed quickly, grabs a banana and next thing you know, he’s at the door tying shoelaces. Daddy’s gotta go sweetie, but he’ll be back, I promise, no need to worry. Don’t cry; momma’s here. Momma’s with you. Brush your teeth up and down, brush your teeth round and round… He hears me sing and heads straight for the bathroom. He knows it’s time to do the teeth. Brush your teeth from left to right, brush your teeth in the morning and night… I’m closing the door behind him, putting his bib on, and squeezing toothpaste onto his brush while he’s waiting patiently. Brush your teeth to keep them white…We brush our teeth together. Brush your teeth in the morning and night…
M’s out. We can get back. On his way out, B. grabs the shampoo bottle. He’s running rampant through the apartment: living room, bedroom, kitchen, living room, bedroom, kitchen. Put that thing down. Put it down, I said. Don’t touch that. Not the garbage, for God’s sake. Not in your month! What do you have in your mouth? Spit it out! Spit it out! A long list of don’ts.
Breakfast served. Breakfast eaten. The dishes are dirty. The dishes are clean. The dishes are dirty. No dishwasher, all manual labor. I’m sipping my first morning coffee, looking away for a split second. A loud crash. Several glasses and mugs are on the floor, shattered in hundreds of pieces. By the time I get the dustpan from the storage room, B’s already seized the cupboard tablecloth and pulled it down. His glass nuts jar falls on the ground. Don’t come near. Mom will take care of it. He watches me collect the big pieces with my hands. God, what a mess!