I love early mornings. The boys wake up (one early, one later) and come and crawl in bed with us. Youngest is always first to throw open his door, trot down the hall and worm his way into the middle of the pack and under the covers. He brings his 'baby' (a My First Pony) and gets his baby comfy, too. His lovely little body is mostly roasty-toasty, mostly. I bury my nose in his bushy little noggin and breathe, and then gasp - the little devil has parked his chilly bits on me! Every morning, I get sucker punched. Two icy little feet find the warmest spots on my legs, and get firmly planted. YEEEEOW! I am instantly wide awake. And now that he has my attention, he puts in his breakfast order; "Waffles, Mommy!" After I agree on his breakfast choice, he occasionally goes back to sleep.
Then in comes Oldest. Repeats the parking of chilly bits and the breakfast order. Youngest barks out his previous order. Oldest occasionally brings in his babies (a hippo and a zebra), and we all play babies for awhile.
Sometimes the best part of my day is being the bologna in a boy sandwich.