It’s 6:30…maybe 7. Sun is wrestling through the blinds, but the giveaway is the lorikeet outside the window – Rosie’s cue to wake.
She starts do-do-loo-do-ooodling. I gently lift her out of the bed, so she doesn’t wake her big sister. Do NOT wake the big sister, who needs sleep like a comatose teenager/dragon. Waking the dragon before she’s ready does not bode well.
Rosie and I spend an hour or so reading baby books, or doing a puzzle. Sometimes I’ll go for a short run with her in the pram. “Rum!” she calls out excitedly, as I get out my fluoro pink running top.
At last, the dragon stirs, and with a Pip and a Pop, she’s leaping around the living room less like a dragon, more like Joy Unbuttoned. The coffee machine goes on with a brurrr – a sound I hope will wake the other slumbersome dragon from his den.
I put on the eggs to boil, the toast in the toaster, and grind the coffee. While the eggs boil, I set the table – cacciatore salami, chorizo, smoked salmon, triple cream brie, tomatoes, sauerkraut, chutney, plates, egg cups etc. The art of preparation has been finely tuned so that all systems are in synchrony. The second coffee should be being made just as eggs are reaching their perfect point of boil, and the toast has popped.
The second coffee on the table is the cue for people to come sit.
Breakfast in the sunshine house. No matter what’s going on, it’s a ritual I insist on. The other day, I ate a peanut butter sandwich and swigged cold tea while finishing off a contract before 9am, instead of sitting up for sunshine breakfast. It was a poor substitute.
Our breakfast ritual stems from Gregor’s heritage. His family have lengthy decadent continental breakfasts every morning – and breakfast will usually be the only meal until dinnertime. It took me a while to move away from my cholesterol-free porridge, or healthy muesli with tea start to the day. Now, anything less than our usual spread seems like cheating. Breakfast, or Break Fast With Feast, is a languid hour, easing me properly into the day. Not sure how we will go when Elfie has to go to school.
When I was at uni, I wrote a ten-minute play about rituals called The Perfect Point of Boil. It was about an older couple whose existence had basically been pared down to the rituals of how they made their tea.
Most families will have a ritual, or series of rituals, that define the pattern of their day.
What are yours?
Share your stories about rituals for Sunshine Sundays here. Drop in to visit the other linkees. Sadly, Kate, who has been joining us here each week with the most stunning posts, will be taking a little break while she does that thing called Life. We will miss you Kate! For everyone else, next week’s prompt is “Earth”.
PS…Did you do Earth Hour? We nearly forgot!