Papaya Mom

Early mornings are rough, especially when your Mother who let you stay up late talking to your Daddy comes in and rubs your back at 5:30 a.m.  Those sweet calming words, they really just make a girl want to pee.  What to do?  Start the day off right - wet that bed.  Then you can  have a quickie bath to extend the time before you have to help Mama drive Daddy to work.  Note the slight stress around the house as Daddy and Mommy pack up the car and get you dressed - realize this is your big chance, ask your Father for a “green cookie” (Mint Oreo) for breakfast - and get it (Mom notes to herself that you’ll need a really good tooth brushing when we get home).

Hop into your car with the Daddy you love and take him to work on his submarine.  He’s going under the water today so you need to give him kisses, warn him to watch out for Dragons (ever important when you are a princess to stay on top of the Dragon threat level) and say goodbye.  Mommy will usually take you out to breakfast and today it’s Koa Pancake House where you should first eat your own pancake, then all the whipped cream off your (part time) vegan Mother’s waffle (feel free to roll your eyes, I’m recovering from the UK where vegan might be a swear word).  Then it’s off to the park - a 7 a.m. on a Saturday morning - you may find yourself a bit surprised but there will be not another soul there for hours.  Why?  Because real people sleep, right now you and your Mother are human zombies on a warm morning in paradise.  Proceed to play for two glorious hours until your sweet little body is so tired from the early wakeup that all you want is to go home and crawl back into your own little bed.  This is when your Mother will point at the ocean in front of you (actually the mouth of Pearl Harbor which you ware watching from the Hickam Waterfront Park) and show you the Submarine slipping out to sea.  It will blow it’s horn as it rounds Hospital Point, feel free to humor your Mother and believe her when she tells you that your Daddy did that just for you.  When you squint at the tiny men atop the sail, humor her again and believe one of them is Daddy.

Beg to go home, and fall asleep in your Mothers arms as she walks you the 200 feet back to the car (after a potty break, thank goodness).  Feel the lull of the Prius as it drives you back home, cuddle into your Mother’s bed and take a nap with her for a good three hours.  Now, at 1 p.m., your day can begin.

This is how to start a (short) deployment, three year old style.

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