I glance at my phone. 8:00 a.m. Faint sounds of Hamilton and Liberty sail through the air from the kitchen. Groaning, I force myself to roll from my bed and pad down the hall.
“Good morning,” Hamilton smiles, teasing me about my hate for mornings without using any words.
I merely grunt as I fill my mug at the coffee pot and plop onto a stool near Liberty. She’s eating her Cheerios and fruit with her fingers. With each bite, her chin and fingertips stain red with strawberry juice. She’s so cute. I pull out my phone and send a few pics to Memphis and Amy. Even though it’s Sunday, I decide that if I’m up, my friends should be, too. I send a group text to my girls before placing my cell phone on the counter.
“Want some breakfast?” Hamilton asks, fighting another smile.