Awkward Mom vs. Poetry - rematch

The muse strikes again!

Baby girl is first awake,
in a bed magically full of children;
weren't you all tucked in somewhere else just hours ago?
You stretch and retch into my ear,
so I blink awake to marvel at your beauty.

It is immense.
You giggle and gaze until your merry eyes land to your left;
you seem startled, like you can't recognize your brother in his resting state.
But then a coal lights behind your cobalt eyes and smolders

until a burning desire shakes your tiny fingers with glee.
You lunge out towards him, leaning dangerously off my chest in your quest;
your entire body tenses and arches toward him,
every muscle working for your goal;
baby Olympian despite my best efforts.
You finally reach him and hover,
for just one single second of peace;

one single moment to admire you both so close together,

in the cool morning air before the day gets hot and heavy.

One single moment
before plunging your adorable fingers into his beautifully tousled hair.

I don't blame you, baby girl,
those tendrils are tempting.
You shriek with laughter.
He just shrieks,
And the eldest slams a pillow into the both of you.
Must be morning.

Good awkward morning, Readers! Hope yours are as festive, although maybe just a hair quieter.

The early bird.