My daughter, mesmerized by a novel that kept her under its spell late into the night resisted all forces outside her blanket the next morning.

Unsuccessful in several attempts to awaken that sweet thing from her literary comatose state, my six-year-old son pushed aside his breakfast, turned to me in Hulk stance and said, “I got this, Mommy.”

A few screams peeled from Chloe’s room, then rounded into snort-induced giggles.

I sprang.

Noah, several pounds & inches smaller than Big Sis had pulled Chloe from her bed, and was dragging her across the room when I arrived. Unsure of when to stop dragging, Noah finally released Chloe when the wall and the shoe pile stopped him from going further. Explosions of laughter began our morning.

It was as if God had dipped his finger into multi-colored glitter and blew it across the room, “surprise.”

Chloe rarely smiles on awakening; I can only determine that the pure shock of morning-person colliding with night-owl produced a phenomenon in such rare contrast that only joy could survive the moment.

I knew then that it would be a good day.

On a different note: Along with my writer’s group (a project of the real Cataclysm Missions) I’m accepting true stories for a Christian Anthology. Click here for details.