My daughter Lucille poured cold water on my face first thing Saturday morning and I’m not over it yet. She made her way to our pillows as she does most every morning and stood, I thought, looking out the window above our heads. The window was locked. I knew she was safe so I kept my eyes closed hoping to squeeze out a few more minutes of sleep in the early morning.
“Up, up,” I heard her say. I knew she meant cup, and thinking there was no cup in sight, I looked up to see what she was doing. That’s when I saw she was holding a glass of water right above my head. Before I could reach her or even utter a word, she poured a full pint glass of cold water in my face.
It was 6:15 a.m.
I jumped out of bed shouting four letter words. I was soaked, my pillow was soaked and Lucille was smiling. I threw off my tank top, dried my face and, I’m pretty sure, screamed into the towel. Lucille made her way to the bathroom.
“Mama wet!” she said. Yeah, mama wet indeed.